


Broken Threads of Fate

by InfiniteFeather



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Assassins, Dragonlords, Dragons, Gen, Magical Artifacts, Spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 89,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4350419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteFeather/pseuds/InfiniteFeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes your worst enemy is yourself as Merlin discovers when King Cenred and his hired right hand, Eadric take an interest in the dragonlord's son and decide to use him for their own ends.</p><p>When Merlin ends up in Camelot, the very placed where magic is banned, he only has Gaius, a man too close to the King for comfort, and Sir Miley, the only other person to know of Merlin's task and the very person who is meant to help him commit the crime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The number of chapters might change.
> 
> I don't own Merlin or anything from the show, though the other characters used are all mine

**Part one – Destiny awakes**

Night had come, and the only light to be seen was the full moon, which bathed the world in its silver glow. Four riders were galloping through the forest at a dangerous speed. They didn't have the time to slow down, and had to trust the path and the moonlight to guide them in the right direction.

The time given for the task had nearly run out. They were late.

They looked like moving shadows, and their hooded cloaks fluttering behind them were their coal black wings. Their horses looked like grey ghosts, seemingly flying over the forest floor. The only thing that could give them away was the constant sound of their hooves hitting the ground and a small flash of red. It belonged to a fifth person who was slung over the first man's horse. He was clearly unconscious.

They continued until they finally reached the end, and the riders broke through the forest. The land was nearly even, only a few bushes standing around, clinging to the earth for dire life in the cold biting wind. To the right, the sea continued endlessly towards the horizon, fading away in the black sky.Towering on a cliff by the shore stood a big castle, as sharp and dark grey as the rocks it stood on.

The riders followed the only path leading towards it, riding dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. The waves were pressing against the rocks, willing the foundation under the castle to crumble and the walls to fall to be swallowed by the water. The waves crashed against them harder and louder, their play-fight with each other getting wilder and more fiercely every second.

A storm was coming.


	2. The King the boy and the assassin

**Chapter 1 – The king, the boy and the assassin**

The King sat on his throne. The room was dark, doe to only a few candles were lit, and therefore laying his face nearly completely in shadows. The few servants and guards in the room almost didn't dare to breathe, let alone move, although they had been standing in the same positions for hours. The King didn't have rumour for tolerating laziness or failure, and right now his men were laid.

That didn't bode well for anyone.

The King tapped his finger on the armrest. He liked his throneroom; it fitted his mood, but even kings had dreams. He wanted the throne of Camelot and its riches and the power it would grant him. With the Pendragons out of the way, no one could contradict him anymore.

The thought made him smirk.

He was rather young for a king, only in his thirties, but he already had more battle experience than most people ever would get in their entire life. He had dark hair and taunting eyes that just made him look even more intimidating.

2 years ago he had managed to gather a small army of mercenaries and kill the former king, even while outnumbered 1 to 20. It had been a quick but bloody battle which the former king would have won if it hadn't been for one thing.

Magic.

That was a power the King had discovered was very useful in war. A powerful sorcerer could sometimes be as good as a hundred soldiers, sometimes more, so he always made sure to have a few fighting in his army, loyal only to him and ready to fight to the death if called.

He was proud of himself, but not so arrogant that he didn't know that peace wouldn't last forever. That's why he needed to take Camelot, and why he was waiting at the moment. If they didn't arrive soon, he would give into his boredom and restlessness and get some entertainment for himself. He had a few prisoners he hadn't given a visit for a while.

Finally the doors burst open, and a guard stumbled in, quickly bowing low before the King. The King straightened in the throne and glared at the soldier, daring him the bring bad news. He could nearly hear the other man swallow a lump.

"T-they found him, my lord," the man finally stuttered.

The corners of the King's mouth twisted a little. Good news indeed.

He nodded at the guard, and gave him his next order. "Send for Sir Eadric and tell him his experiment has arrived. Hurry, or you will be entertaining the wyverns tonight."

The guard bowed again, and with a quick, "yes my lord" nearly ran back out of the room.

Fear had always been the King's favourite weapon.

The door creaked open and in marched a figure donned in a black cloak, blending him into the shadows. Not only was the man one of the most feared assassins in the five kingdoms, an excellent warrior, and had the ability to get his job done unnoticed, he also was a powerful and skilled sorcerer.

The King wasn't a complete fool. He knew that Eadric only stayed as long as he was paid in plenty of gold, and as long as no one bid a higher prize on the King's head. That was one of the reasons for him knighting the sorcerer; not that the man possessed any loyalty towards the King, but as sign from the King that he would keep his promises as long as the assassin finished the work.

None of them said a word as they waited. It was the time for their real plan to be set in motion.

It wasn't long before the doors burst open again; this time it was three men who entered. Two guards were dragging an unconscious boy over the floor, his messy hair falling into his face. It was difficult to see any details, but the King guessed that the boy couldn't be any older than twenty, probably a few years younger.

The King raised an eyebrow unimpressed. Eadric apparently shared his first impression as he growled, "Really? You are away for weeks to find a man, and then you bring me a  _child!?_ "

The guards laid the boy down on the floor and took a step back, when the assassin continued, "… What use could I have for him?"

The King himself was more than a little annoyed, but quickly relaxed again. He knew his men wouldn't dare to play tricks with him. They would have some kind of explanation. They better had a good one.

He took a closer look at the boy. He was tall, but lanky, with raven black hair and pale white skin. He didn't look much of a fighter.

"S-sorry for the wait, my lord" one of the guards stuttered. "We found him near the border of Camelot, close to one of the outlying villages. Sir Miley said he was who we sought, and performed a sleepingspell on him. He hasn't woken up yet."

"Hmm …" The King eyed the young warlock. He did look a little like his dear old 'friend', just much younger, and with paler skin and higher cheekbones. Maybe … Yes, that had to be it.

They may not have been able to find Balinor himself, but his son would work fine as well. He would also be much easier to  _persuade_  into joining them, inexperienced as he had to be. They needed a creature of magic, a person whose soul and life-source was magic, and a son of a dragonlord was such a 'person'.

"Maybe this could even prove useful. Uther wouldn't even know what hit him." The King grinned.

He gave a nod at the assassin, who stepped forwards, holding two twin bracelets in his hands. They were called the Regebat de Animus; their original name lost hundreds of years ago just as the bracelets had been, until the King had discovered a secret hallway under his castle a few weeks ago and together with Eadric found a chamber with magical artefacts.

The assassin crouched down to the boy, and lifted his left arm while placing one of the bracelets around it. Then he took a few steps back and placed its twin around his own limb. His eyes flashed gold and he began to chant loud and clear in the tongue of magic. The bracelets first glowed white, before slowly disappearing.

The King looked at the boy as he began to twist and shake. The boy gasped and his eyes snapped open, unseeing and golden. A glow appeared around him and moved slowly over to engulf the knight too, linking them together.

The light disappeared and the boy stilled once more. The King turned towards the sorcerer, who stared blankly at the wall for a second before turning around again.

To all other than the King, he still had a blank expression without the tiniest bit of emotion in his midnight black orbs, but the King thought he could see the hint of something more. Was it surprise … or even … awe? But it disappeared as soon as he met the King's eyes.

The assassin gave a nod and turned around, signalling to the guards. They began to drag the limp body out of the room.

It had worked.

He waited until they had all left the room.

"Burl!"

A young servant garbed in black rags hurried from a corner, and bowed low, his beak-like nose nearly touching the floor. "Yes, milord?"

"Be sure he has everything he needs," the King replied, "and tell Sir Harold and Sir Miley to meet me here later."

He did not as much as to look in the direction of the servant. "Of course my lord." The servant bowed again, and disappeared out of a hidden side door.

~o~o~o~

Two hours later, the King was on his way the see how the assassin fared with his newest project. He entered without even thinking about knocking. He was the King after all. The man in question sat with closed eyes on a chair in front of the boy. His had a slight frown on his brow.

He looked up when the King entered, and smirked.

"Well?" the King asked the knight, without betraying his inner nervousness. If it hadn't worked properly …

"He is indeed who we seek." Eadric answered calmly "He has lived in the village all his life, so he will not be recognized. It is unlikely anyone would recognize him as Balinor's son, and knowing Uther, he wouldn't. He has always been blind and lucky for us that will now be his downfall."

The King could see the pure joy in the assassin's eyes by the mere thought of getting revenge on the King of Camelot. He signalled for him to continue.

"He has unfortunately never been trained in magic, but that doesn't mean anything. I can control his magic perfectly because he is a creature of magic and it runs in his blood and through his whole body."

"Just like we talked about ..." the assassin seemed lost in thoughts now. "I was right in the other theories too; I can send him orders through my mind, and I will be able to control him completely in a small matter of time." The assassin let his fingers run over the wooden armrest of his chair. He got a glint in his eyes that even the King couldn't place. "I will begin to train him in mortal-combat tomorrow. He could be really useful, also after Camelot has fallen." He smiled cruelly.

"Give me a year and you will have an excellent assassin. All have a weakness; it is my job to find his. He shouldn't be too hard to break."

“I will give you seven months,” the King countered, but the assassin was no longer listening. He walked over to the young warlock, and placed his hand on his brow, while he began to mumble words in another language, ignoring the King once more.

Cenred knew he shouldn't say anything and thought it was a good moment to retreat, so he left the room.

Nothing could take away the first taste of victory through; this was going to be much easier than he had first thought.

Eadric looked down at the warlock. He had finally woken up after two whole days; Miley must have used a more powerful spell than he first intended to. He cleared his throat and waited for the warlock to look at him.

"Good," he began to address him, "The next few months I will to train you in the art of fighting. I will teach you to fight with a sword, the best way to throw a knife and how to shoot perfectly with a crossbow; you will become an excellent fighter." The boy didn't say anything and was just glaring at him. He ignored it, "You should be grateful for such an opportunity! Not everyone is granted such a chance!" The boy looked away, not very impressed or excited at the thought of learning the best ways to kill others.

"Well what do you say?" Eadric taunted with a grin.

"I will never fight for you!" the boy hissed quietly, but the little edge of fear betrayed him.

The assassin just laughed. "You don't have a choice in  _that_  matter." He turned away from the warlock and took two knifes from a little table, facing him again.

"The rules are simple; I attack you and you defend yourself. Don't worry, I have enchanted the blades; if they hit they will not make any physical damage, you will just feel the pain." He smirked.

He was truly enjoying this.

He threw one of the two knives over to the warlock, and took a fighting-stance. "Go on, defend yourself!"

The warlock didn't move a muscle. "No."

The assassin just shrugged.

"As you wish."

In one swift motion he was beside the other, and plunged his knife into his shoulder. The warlock screamed in shock and pain, and collapsed to the floor. As soon as the knight pulled the knife out again, the pain stopped.

The assassin looked down as the warlock laid on the ground, now breathing hard, and continued to smile.

"Defend yourself." He said again. The warlock just shook his head and got up again, but didn't reply. The assassin sighed, but his eyes and wide grin showed just how much he enjoyed it.

Then he stabbed him in the shoulder again.

This time the boy's voice broke, and he just laid flat on the ground, his eyes pressed hard together and his breathing ragged.

This continued for a few minutes. The sorcerer would attack, and the warlock refused to defend himself. In the end the warlock barely even whimpered at the pain.

When the boy didn't even try to stand again, the assassin stood up and took the two enchanted knives with him over to the table.

The warlock gave a little sigh in relief.

The assassin-turned-knight called for the guards; it was enough for today. The boy couldn't take so much, and they didn't want to break him completely; he had to be able to think a little for himself.

When the guards had hauled the boy out of the room and towards his new chambers, Eadric began to retreat to his own room.

He knew that Cenred only desired the throne, and for now that was fine, but if the King got in the way for his plan, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

Cenred and Uther had an army, but Eadric had magical abilities and, in time, would have the son of the last dragonlord bound to him. If played the right way, his cards would be much better than theirs.

He would succeed, and no one would be able to stop him.

 

~o~o~o~

Many miles away, in a large cave under the great castle of Camelot, something began to move. The beast opened his eyes and snorted. He could feel it; after twenty-five years he could finally feel it. Destiny had been awoken and was about to begin. But even the ancient creature could feel that there was something wrong, and destiny had changed. Words claimed another meaning and the players of fate were walking different paths in life; the goal may never come to pass.

He shifted his position, and a low rumble escaped his throat.

The time for magic to be free once more was nearly upon them, but if it would come with Albion and peace, or war and death, that hadn't been decided yet.

That was Emrys' own choice.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> Harold: leader of an army  
> Eadric: Power  
> Burl: Cup bearer or butler  
> Wiley (here used Miley): trapper or hunter, devious person
> 
> Regebat de animus:control of the soul (soul as thinking, feeling, willing, intellect, understanding, soul) according to Google translate (Latin)


	3. The Castle of Fyrien

**Chapter 2 – The Castle of Fyrien**  

It took two more days before Merlin decided that he had to do something.

His whole body hurt - not from the wounds but from all the strange exercise he had endured since he arrived.

The assassin would arrive every morning before even the sun had awoken, and he would first leave him alone again when the silver moonlight illuminated the room. Every day was a struggle for staying strong, every night a fight against the nightmares disturbing his sleep.

On the fourth day he finally picked the knife up.

He achieved in deflecting the first of the assassin's blows, but the second followed too quickly for him to block in time and it grazed his right leg. The pain was enough to make him take a step back, and he nearly dropped his weapon, but at least he didn't collapse to the ground like the other times.

That was another thing that had changed; the pain wasn't blinding anymore. He began to focus more on his movements and his thoughts were beginning to clear.

"Don't let the pain control you," was the assassin's only comment on his struggles. The hood concealed most of his face, as it had done since Merlin saw him for the first time; only a flash of white could be seen when he grinned.

Merlin tried to back away from the smirking knight, but the assassin just calmly followed his every step while he tried to provoke him to attack again.

Merlin was not one for violence. He had grown up with a loving mother who had taught him to stay out of trouble, no matter the kind. It had been very important at that time; his life had depended on it. He could easily have lost his control over his magic if he had had play-fights together with the other village boys. Instead he had been forced to stand to the side, unable to join in.

He had ended being the lad all the others avoided; sometimes they even chased and beat him. It didn't help that no one knew who his father was.

The other kids needed someone to pick on, and he had been the perfect choice.

He had only had one friend, Will, who had lost his own father in a war, had been the only person who had talked to Merlin, and in some ways he was the only person who could understand him. They had been like brothers, always running around and playing tricks on the other villagers while trying to avoid the older children who bullied them. Even when they sometimes had been caught, he had never lost control. And now, as young man, he had had nearly fully control over his feelings. It was very hard to make him show any kind of anger or hatred.

But right now he really didn't care. His magic wouldn't react on his behalf anymore anyway, and his thoughts and body were not always under his control either.

For the first time he was filled with different emotions, good and bad. They all swirled around in him, like they wanted to break free. They were leaving him overly confused. He no longer knew if they were his own or if they belonged to the man he apparently was bound to. And he didn't even really care.

The worst was that he was feeling slightly thrilled by the idea to fight, and that even the idea to hurt someone wasn't bothering him as much that he would like. The adrenaline was leaving him panting and his heart was beating like there was no tomorrow. All his senses were on their highest. He shook his head to clear it.  _Where did all that come from; it wasn't like him at all!_

That was all what Eadric needed to attack again, this time he hit him in his shoulder. "Never lose focus," he commanded.

Merlin stumbled back a step and tried to keep his balance, while letting out a hiss of pain.  _Control the pain._  The assassin yanked the knife back, and the burning pain slowly lessened, even if he could still feel the tingling feeling from the nonexistent wound.

Eadric just ignored it. "Come on, attack! Show me what you are made of, boy!" Like if he ever could land a blow on a man that could read his thoughts, and could nearly control his body perfectly...

He shuddered a little when he thought back at the first time the assassin had used that new kind of power. Even if it hadn't succeeded completely, the small moment when his body and mind suddenly belonged to another was the worst in his life. He wasn't able to describe what he had felt, only that he feared the day where he would lose it again.

There were fates worse than death.

He was hit four more times before he managed to deflect an attack again, but the stroke was so powerful that he lost his blade in the process.

He spread out his arms in a gesture of peace, and backed again until his back hit the wall. He waited for the knight to attack again, but he just turned around, picked up the other knife and laid them both on the table.

In that second Merlin saw the way over to the door was free, and he thought about running, or even to try to knock Eadric out when his back was turned. He had tried that once before, and he had already found out that that wasn't possible, so he cast that idea away quickly.

The assassin turned around again with a big smile plastered on his face. He had, to Merlin's great relief, completely ignored what the younger magician had just considered, and instead began to address Merlin again, saying, "See, I told you that you would give in someday," the sorcerer's eyes sparkled with mirth in the darkness of his hood.

"Now we just have to work with your techniques and reflexes … You know, I could just  _make_  you do it, but what would the fun be in that?" If Merlin could see his eyes he would have seen the coldness that ruled the sorcerer's heart.

"Besides I will not be able to watch you at all times …" You could even hear the smirk in his voice, and with that he turned to the door and strode out.

When the door was closed again, and Merlin was left waiting for the guards to escort him back to his new room, he couldn't help but shudder.

What had he got himself into this time?

~o~o~o~

Hunith had always been a gentle and loving woman. She had decided that her goal in life was to make a good and caring man out of her son. Merlin was the only thing she had from her first and only love, and her son grew to look more like him every day, both in looks and soul. And it warmed her heart.

It had been love by first sight. She knew he was coming; a letter had arrived from her brother Gaius a few days beforehand. She had never found out who his family were or where he came from, but she would guess that he was some kind of noble, due to his clothes, his fine leather saddle and beautiful black stallion.

Balinor had only stayed for a few months, but they had fallen deeply in love and had planned to marry. Sadly, fate didn't agree with the young couple.

One night he had woken her up, and whispered to her that 'they' were coming. He had to leave to keep her safe. She had known that he was hiding from Camelotian knights, but she had thought that he would be safe on this side of the border.

She promised not to say anything, even as tears ran down her cheeks. She knew she couldn't go with him. She would have followed him into hell, but it was not the time, and she understood that. He had kissed her for the last time, and as they stared into each other's eyes, there was only the feeling of deep love, the fear forgotten. For a moment they were lost in thoughts of what could have been.

Then the sound of hooves interrupted the moment, and she had watched as he took his backpack and disappeared into the night. His promise to return still hung in the air; the only thing she had left, or so she thought.

Seven months later Merlin was born.

The magic hadn't been that much of a surprise; he was too much like his father. She hadn't as much as one magical-bone in her body, and she didn't know what to do when he began to levitate things around in the house only a few hours after his birth. She had wanted to write to her brother for help, but after the purge it had become too dangerous.

People were executed for less, and the borders didn't matter as the incident with Balinor just had proved.

She was scared for Merlin. What if someone found out and took him away? She had to raise him to hide and lie from the moment he was born. She felt awful for it, but that was the only thing she could do to keep him safe. She had tried to do everything she could to make him a kind of son Balinor would have been proud of.

Now, twenty-two years later, she was still waiting for her love to come back.

And now her son had gone missing too.

Hunith sat on her chair and stared into the fire. She had always been a strong woman, and even with tears running down her cheeks, she wouldn't give up hope.

Her loved ones would return to her.

She knew it.

~o~o~o~

Merlin stood right in the middle of his room. If you could call it a room, for it was more like a comfortable prison. The door was locked and he knew there were two guards stationed just outside. He could hear them whispering and occasionally the clicking of their chainmail when they moved.

No chance of getting out that way.

The stone floor was a dark grey that matched the rest of the castle, and did nothing to lighten his mood. The furniture was the same dark colours, dusty and old, like they had been left here when the castle was build and not cleaned since.

There were only two things of interest: the first was a four poster bed, filled with fluffy pillows. It was nearly as big as his mother's house. Whenever he slept in it, Merlin felt like he was drowning in the blankets.

The other was a drawer with paper and quills, there was even some ink. Paper and ink were expensive he knew, not just something everyone had, so he was glad they had let it stay. They probably didn't think he could write anyway, and he couldn't use it as a weapon either, so they probably just didn't bothered to remove it.

They were wrong, at least with the first one. His mother had learned to read and write from her brother, and had taught him since he was little. His mother only owned one book, one about basic healing, another gift from her brother, but even if Merlin now knew it by heart, he knew it was more than most people had.

His mother had had very little paper, only enough to hold the contact with Gaius, and so she taught him to write by using a stick and drawing forms in the dirt. At that time Merlin had thought it to be a new game, one that quickly turned rather dull, but now he appreciated his mother's lessons.

He walked over and sat by the desk, a new clean paper before him and the quill ready to dip into the inkbottle, but he couldn't think of anything to write.

He missed his mother, but he knew he couldn't return to her. He had to play his part for these men. He knew the consequence if he didn't.

By reading his memories, Sir Eadric had quickly found out that by threatening his mother's life rather than Merlin's, he could get him to work with them much more willingly. That was one of the reasons that he had given in today; the false knight had begun to talk about visiting his mother and bring her on a 'holiday' to the castle.

Merlin had been horrified by the idea of his mother living here. He knew that they probably would take her to the castle eventually, when he would be send out to complete his task the assassin always talked about, whatever that was, but he would give her as much time as possible.

He abandoned the paper and walked over to the window. He could see right out on the ocean. When he first got this room, it had been the first time that he had seen it. Now he had made it a habit to stand and look out on the waves as the clashed into the shore, wondering if the beasts in there would ever tear the castle down, so they would sink down to the hidden treasures on the bottom that no mortal had seen before.

He would stare out at the moon as it cast its glittering silver light on the surface; he wished he could enjoy its beauty, that he had the time to get lost in the wonders of nature.

The full moon was high on the sky when he finally went to bed.

~o~o~o~

A few weeks after his arrival, Sir Eadric decided to take the next step and showed him how to throw a knife.

He had spent the next two days just trying to hold it correctly and learn  _how_  to throw it, and one more day to get it just to hit the target once … while standing four feet from it. It was harder than just fighting with it, but he liked it much more, as neither he nor anyone else was hurt during that time.

Sadly, the assassin's training did not stop there, and when he deemed Merlin ready to move on, they started sword fighting instead. The fighting was a little bit as fighting with swords, but instead of getting close to the opponent, it was about slashing and ducking more than stabbing.

Afterwards he tried shooting with bow and arrows, with limited success, and crossbow which was a little easier. At least he hit the target with that one.

At last he had to learn hand to hand combat, where he ended up relying more on his ability to move fast than actual skill.

Six months went by before the assassin deemed him good enough to try the last test; a fight against a real opponent.

To the death.

Apparently the King had found it entertaining to pit him against one of his knights, a man who probably had years of combat experience and hardly looked like a twig like Merlin did.

Merlin was going to be sick.


	4. To win or to lose

**Chapter 3 - To win or to lose**  

Merlin woke by someone whispering in his mind. He couldn't make out the words, but he counted at least three different voices. He opened his eyes, and blinked until the light didn't blind him anymore. The voices had disappeared as soon as he moved, and they did not come back.

The golden sunlight warmed him a little and for one small moment he just sat there at peace with himself, until reality set in and the light seemed to dim to a dusty yellow instead.

He released a small sigh. The bed creaked a little when he stood up and he began to prepare for the day. There stood a table by the wall on the other side of the room; it was now nearly covered by fruit, cheese and meat. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion; he hadn't even heard anyone come in. Someone obviously thought he needed some luck for today's test.

They were probably right.

He began to stuff his mouth full; flavors he didn't even know touched his tongue. He was well aware of that he most likely looked ridiculous, but he didn't care. He had just realized how hungry he truly was.

A half an hour later a guard knocked on his door and entered before Merlin got the chance to answer. The soldier gave him a blank look from under his grey helmet, and gestured for him to follow. The warlock slowly stood up and carefully made it to the door, his head slightly bowed in an attempt to not attract too much attention and to appear as defenceless as possible. He thought he succeeded rather well, but wasn't comforted by it at all.

He wasn't surprised that they hadn't sent more soldiers; the assassin could still use his bond from the bracelets, and what were his new developed skills beside years of battle training?

He had tried to accept his fate, tried to not let it bother him, but the truth was that he was scared. He was afraid that this would be the day he died.

His thoughts wandered back to his mother. She would be waiting for her son to return. It would destroy her if he didn't. He couldn't let that happen. If he couldn't fight for himself, he could at least fight for her.

They strode down several long corridors, all empty with the exception of a few other guards, who didn't as much as turned the gaze in acknowledge.

Finally they arrived at a big wooden door, obviously the throne room.

The guard walked over in front of two guards, who were stationed outside the doors.

"He has arrived as requested," he growled with a deep, raucous voice. Merlin cringed slightly as the guards' eyes pierced him with their gazes, and quickly lowered his eyes to the ground.

He nearly took a step back in shock when he finally gathered the courage to slowly lift his gaze from the now familiar grey floor. The guards had started to open the doors, and through the gap he could just make out the throne and the King sitting grinning on it.

Merlin hadn't really met the King yet, but with the whispers from the guards by his door and how the assassin talked about him, he thought he could have gone on fine without.

His escort gave him a slight push, and he nearly fell flat on his face as he stumbled into the room.

It was time.

~o~o~o~

It was a morning like any other after her son had disappeared.

The sky was a light blue and together with the golden corn made the perfect picture of peace. A few years ago such a day would have made her son laugh out of joy. She loved it when her son laughed. She knew he had had a harder life than others his age, the burden of having to hide a part of himself was a heavy one, but on these sunny days the burden seemed to disappear for a while.

He would usually hum some melody for himself and maybe even find the time to pick her some flowers. Her boy had a heart of gold; every mother's dream, it wasn't fair he had to go through so much, and who knew what more he went through now?

Today she once again woke up at dawn, she had no eyes for the good weather or the beauty of nature; she just went on with her duties for today.

First she had gone out to collect eggs for breakfast. She always made two bowls for dinner because one day her son would come back and she wanted to be ready. But like any other morning he didn't come. She only cleared her own bowl away; her son's would first be replaced when she went home for dinner.

Afterwards she began to work. She would have a harder time finishing harvesting the vegetables in her own garden while still having to help the other villagers getting the grain back from the fields, and therefor she had to use all her strength to work harder than when she had had her son to help her.

She wiped the sweat of her brow and couldn't help but smile when she remembered how a five year old Merlin had stumbled around while trying to help his mother, but managing to ruin more - much to the frustration of the neighbours.

The sun stood low on the sky and it was nearing the time to prepare dinner when hooves could be heard.

There were no horses in Ealdor. Horses were expensive and Ealdor was just a small outlying village at the edge of the border of Essetir and Camelot, they could manage but nothing more. Mathew, the head of the village, owned a coble of oxen which they used to pull the cart and the plow, but that was it.

Horses meant visitors.

Hunith hurried to her front door and peeked out; she could see all the way down the village's main road and all the way into the forest. The sound of hooves had died out, but she couldn't see anyone; the road was empty beside a little bird picking after insects in the dirt.

She looked towards her neighbour; she could just make out the outline of the young couple and their two sons looking scared out of their window. No one ever trusted strangers after what the bandit-leader Kanen had done. He had stolen their food and killed the eldest son of Matthew and the village had nearly gone to the King for help – even if they knew it would be useless.

At that time her son had secretly chased the bandits away by randomly tripping them and setting fire to Kanen's cloak. Merlin's best friend, and only other person to know of his magic, William, had nearly been killed in the progress. He only survived because Merlin had pushed him out of the way of the arrow – their friendship had been even closer afterwards.

She closed the door and slowly went and grabbed a metal poker, the heaviest object in the house, and placed herself behind the door – ready to knock out any enemy who dared to enter.

It was a shame that it didn't help her.

From the memories the assassin had collected from Merlin, sadly fewer than he had wanted to but still enough; he now knew exactly where his soldiers had to look for her.

In that moment the men were surrounding the back of the same house, while being very careful not to get spotted by the scared villagers. The leader, Sir Miley, one of the few men who could call himself 'Knight of Essetir' and the same person to kidnap her son, was currently thinking of the best way of getting Hunith out of her house and into the woods without anyone seeing them.

Normally they could just march up the her door and demand that she followed them, but Cenred had made it very clear that it was a secret mission and no one were to be able to point them out; rumors travelled far too quickly to be stopped in time.

At last he decided to wait until nightfall, he knew it was a rather obvious plan, but their black clothes and capes with Cenred's crest would blend in perfectly; no one would know who Hunith's captors were; order fulfilled.

His men shuffled uneasily around at the edge of the forest and Miley tried not to cringe every time one of them stepped on a twig. Why did he have to get the noisy idiots to a secret mission?

Finally the time was right. He looked on his men who were nearly quivering with excitement and gave the order to attack. The soldiers stormed forwards shouting out battle cries and destroying the thicket; not thinking at all on their orders to staying quiet. They behaved exactly like the King's hunting dogs and Miley could have rolled his eyes at them had the situation not been so dear.

Five minutes, one knocked out soldier and several bruised men later, his men had dragged the lone farm lady into the woods. They pulled her forwards so see fell on her knees before him, the position was supposed to show her who was in charge, but Miley nearly winched at her glare which seemed to burn him with its heat . He managed to ignore it, and instead just nodded for his men for them to take her to the horses while calling over his shoulders, "It's a pleasure that you would be so kind and join us, my lady."

Hunith ignored him, abandoning glaring at him to instead to stare into the air as she was dragged on the ground and bound to one of their spare horses. He turned his head and for a second his face was eliminated by the moonlight, showing his worn but young face. "I hope for you that you chance that attitude; it will get you nowhere where you're going …" He mumbled so quietly Hunith was sure he had said it to himself.

She frowned. "Where are we going, Sir Knight?" Her voice was quiet but strong, not showing her fear to the enemy.

The knight turned his head around once more, but this time the darkness created by the forest made her unable to see anything more than his silhouette. "To the end of the world," He answered grimly.

~o~o~o~

Merlin fixed his attention solemnly on the King of Essetir. The man was younger than he would have guessed, but otherwise looked exactly like he had heard people describe him; cold and cruel. The King's dark eyes held his gaze, which together with his confident and arrogant smirk made him look insane. The young warlock concluded that he probably  _was_.

He could hear the sound of the door closing behind them, and then the shuffle of the guards as they went back to their posts, blocking the only way out.

He was unsure of what to do next. Not that it would matter if he knew; his brain's connection to his legs seemed severed, and he was sure they would rather buckle than carry him if he tried to go anywhere. 'Help' came in the worst thinkable way as he could feel his thoughts became blurred and his senses dulled until he lost the control completely.

His feet carried him towards the throne, moving him in a confident pace that was much too calm to be normal.

Cenred's smirk widened as he watched the boy walk closer before stopping to kneel a few meters from his feet. He recognized the slightly glazed look in his eyes from the assassin's description; the only way to identify the link without the magic. Not that you would notice it if you weren't looking for it in the first place...

He felt the excitement from the prospect of the first part of the plan finally being complete; only one test to go.

He stared at the kneeling form before him while calmly addressing the hooded man to his left, "Let's see what we got here."

"Oh, it will be worth the wait I'm sure," Was the whispered reply.

Merlin's thoughts became clear once more and he nearly lost his balance as he once again was in control of his body. He felt like a horse about to be bought as he felt both of the men's gazes inspecting him. He slowly lifted his head a little and glared at the grey king, whose lips thinned but the smile still didn't waver.

At last the King broke his gaze and instead shouted to a knight standing in the corner. Merlin had completely missed him with his black cape with a snake on it; the traditional Essetir crest. The man was tall and looked like he could snap Merlin like a twig. The knight seemed to think the same as he smiled cruelly down on the warlock, showing his yellow teeth.

Merlin took a deep breath. Death seemed to have taken a special liking to him because the last few months she had constantly danced around him, and now apparently chosen to take the change and grasp him for her own.  _Why was life so cruel?_  Merlin was only glad his mother didn't have to see him like this about to be killed by this beast of a man.

Panic made his breath quicken and heart threaten to leave his chest, but he forced himself to calm down.

Focus. He had to focus, or he wouldn't get out of this.  _And what will you do afterwards? It's not like they will let you go or invite you for dinner …_  He ignored the thought.

"Rise, boy," Cenred snarled at him and he quickly stumbled to the side.

The King rose from his throne and gestured to the two competitors. "A petty king would wish you luck and 'fight with honor'. I'm not a petty king. The only rule is that there are no rules." He grinned and the knight let out a small growl in glee, seeing a sure victory before him.

"The last man standing is the winner; no mercy," the King's eyes caught Merlin's and grinned as the boy flinched. A group of servants came out of the shadows, all wearing blank expressions as they carried piles of different weapons into the middle of the room and dumped them in a big heap of bulking grey metal and black wood. They disappeared just as quickly as they came and the King sat down.

"Let the battle commence!"

Both the fighters ran at the pile of deadly treasures. Merlin quickly snatched a pair of knives, knowing very well it was the only weapon he really could defend himself with. He could see a glimpse of metal as the knight drew something heavy from under a shield. The next moment he lunged at Merlin, using all his strength to swing his two-handed sword at the warlock's head.

Merlin instinctively dived out of the weapons path, feeling a slight wind as the sword past his head by inches. Before the knight could give it another, probably more successful, try, Merlin jumped over the pile, using his smaller and lighter frame to his advantage. The knight wouldn't be able to follow with all his heavy leather armor and chainmail, and had to step around it instead.

Merlin mirrored his step, making sure to always being on the complete opposite side.

The knight snarled, annoyed. "Scared boy?" He taunted.

Merlin just glared at him; he would have liked to retort with some witty comment, but thought better of it. He would rather safe his breath for something else, like keeping himself alive, he also discovered he didn't even know his soon to be killer's name. He wasn't sure why it mattered, he was going to die after all, but some buried human instinct wanted to  _know_.

He didn't  _want_  to die. Wasn't it too soon? But that's probably what everyone who was killed thought, or he supposed it would. Why was he even thinking about this right now? Shouldn't he rather concentrate on staying out of the sword's reach?

Too many questions to be answered in the given time; the hourglass was running out - for one of them.

He wasn't sure which one would be the best for him.

He had been lost in thoughts for too long, and the next thing he knew was the knight standing before him and the pain as the sword cut into flesh. He crashed to the ground as his legs gave out and stared at the red blood flowing out of the deep wound in his left thigh.

He gasped as the air no longer seemed to reach his lungs. A fleeting thought told him that the fact that he couldn't feel any pain couldn't be a good sign, and he hoped it was because of the adrenaline feeling his body. The thought was soon forgotten, as the grinning knight towered above him.

"Playtime's over."

He swung the sword down for a killing blow.

Merlin stared unblinking at his upcoming end as time seemed to slow around him. He waited to see if the saying was right, and he really would see his life flash before his eyes. He instinctive raised his right arm, barely sensing the lack of weight as he had lost one of his weapons in his fall. He looked like he tried to stop the sword. He discovered that he could move in normal speed while the rest of the world continued to move in slow-motion.

_Magic._

_My magic is protecting me again._  He shouldn’t have been so surprised; his magic had always aided him in times of need. Only after coming here had it nearly laid dormant. He had thought it had something to do with the 'bond', but maybe it had been something else entirely…

He quickly guided his magic towards the sword, stopping it and sending it flying in a long bow through the room before landing clattering on the ground out of reach.

Time returned to normal, and the knight looked confused after his sword. Using his moment of detraction, Merlin stood up leaning heavily on his right leg, and swayed dangerously.

He looked at the knight as he too slowly placed himself in a fighting stance.

He may have lost his weapon, but his cruel eyes were still filled with arrogance that spoke of a thirst for blood wealth that was so deep that Merlin knew what would happen a second before it did.

He acted without thinking, battle training finally kicking in. He tossed the knife from his left hand up in the air, where he caught it with his right and threw it forwards just as his intended target lunged at him.

Merlin stumbled back and collapsed once more as his legs gave in for real. The sound of his heartbeat filled his ears, drowning all other noise. He lost all feeling, like he wasn't really there at all, and only his shell was left behind in the nightmare.

It was impossible to say who looked most shocked; the warlock on the ground or the knight staring, confused, at the dagger in his chest. The crimson stain grew and painted the chainmail where the dagger had cut the metal links.

_It shouldn't be possible_.

But it was.

Finally his enemy slipped to the ground, eyes cast unseeing at the celling.

_Murderer._  The word was whispered in his head.  _Murderer._  He didn't even know the man's name and now he was dead.

Killed.

He thought maybe he ought to have reacted in some way, but he couldn't remember how to move. Instead he just continued to watch the puddle grow, even as the King once again stood and laughed, clapping a few times.

"Well done," the King's eyes shone with triumph as he turned to his cloaked companion, "well done, indeed."

The cloaked sorcerer didn't react and the king's smile turned a little annoyed, and he quickly turned his attention back towards the new champion and continued, "Our last guest should have arrived by know, the plan starts tomorrow." It was clearly Merlin had been dismissed, even without the guards moving to escort him back.

Before he turned fully around, Merlin saw as the King gestured disgusted towards his dead knight. "- And take Sir Bil away, I have no use for him now."

Then the doors closed and Merlin just let himself be dragged by the guards without really realizing where he was brought to.

~o~o~o~

The door closed behind her and she could hear the lock clicking into place.

The room was small and the candle in the window barely gave enough light for her to see where she walked, let alone anything else. She quickly went to the window and looked out. Would she ever be able to walk out of this prison again?

Right now she didn't care; she had other, more important things to worry about.

Like where her son was.

The chance of being in the same castle was very high; it would have been too unlikely for two different parties to kidnap both her and her son if the plans weren't related. That, and the fact that they knew which house she lived in.

_What had they done to her boy to get that kind of information?_  He wouldn't have told them willingly, she knew; her son was too foolishly selfless for that.  _Maybe they knew already?_  She hoped so.

She froze when she saw a shadow moving in the corner of her eye. She would recognise it anywhere.

_"Merlin!?"_  she whispered. The flames sparkled in his eyes in a strange way. The assassin nodded. She let out a sob and rushed towards her son, engulfing him in a hug. She clung to him even more as his frame began to shake with his own cries.

_"Oh, my boy,"_  she whispered,  _"What did they do to you?"_  He just laid his own arms around her. She led him towards the bed and sat down on the edge. The next hour they just sat there while she rocked her son slightly back and forth while mumbling soothing words like she had done when he was a kid. She could feel his tears on her back, just as she was sure he could feel hers, but neither of them mentioned them; instead just took the comfort they could be being together again.

_"I killed him,"_  he suddenly whispered,  _"I_  killed _him, Mother!"_  his voice broke and he sobbed even harder afterwards. Hunith took a deep breath and began to rub soothing circles on his back.

_"Who, my boy?"_  she whispered back. No accusation could be found in her voice, no hate. Only motherly concern.

A few minutes passed before he answered.

_"The knight."_

It was quiet for a long time after that, and she thought he wouldn't tell her anymore, when suddenly the words came flowing out. "He was going to k-kill me and the knife …" He took a deep breath before whispering, " _Oh god, the blood … So much blood"_ he swallowed thickly and slowly raised his head and looked at her, the tears trickling down his face, "Am I a monster?" he asked thickly.

Hunith shed another tear at that, laid her arms closer around him, and mumbled into his raven hair,  _"Of course not my boy."_  She wished her tears away and smiled watery down at him, even while he had his head buried in her shoulder.

_"Now shh, my boy. It's a new day tomorrow; a new day for us all."_

Finally they both let sleep claim them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bil: Sword or halberd


	5. A travel to the past and the future

**Chapter 4 – A travel to the past and the future**

The landscape slowly changed around them. The sea was left behind; the stony ground and the flat prairie had been replaced by small green hills and forests. It was nearly midday and after hours of riding both horses and riders were beginning to tire.

Merlin kept his gaze locked on the dusty path before him. Being outside for the first time in months had been refreshing at first. The quiet twitter from the birds could nearly lure him into a false sense of peace. He had caught himself in smiling more than once, but he just had to look to beside him to destroy those happy thoughts.

The slim man riding beside him was much younger than he had expected, no more than a few years older than Merlin himself. The man's disheveled hair was a dirty blond, his lake-colored eyes hard, staring calmly straight ahead towards their destination.

He looked a lot like any other farmer's boy you would find in any village around the kingdoms; in fact he looked a lot like an older vision of Merlin's childhood friend, Will.

Merlin bit his bottom lip and blinked a few times to get rid of the moisture that threatened to gather there. Another chapter of golden memories he had to bury away. It was hard to think about his life before. It felt mostly like a dream now. Like it had never happened and he, indeed, had been stuck in the grey castle his whole life. He couldn't continue like this.

Maybe he should focus on writing a new chapter instead.

Starting with the man beside him.

Miley.  _Sir_  Miley. The man who had kidnapped both him and his mother. That was all he had known before he had been torn from his sobbing mother's arms, hauled out to the castle's courtyard and sent on his way.

They hadn't spoken a word the whole journey, and Merlin was sure you would be able to cut the tension with a knife if you tried.

Merlin's horse stumbled and snorted, making it clear they wouldn't be able to go much further if they didn't want to kill their mounts in the process and walk the rest of the way to Camelot.

"We make rest there." The knight pointed at a small group of trees beside the path, a few minutes' walk away. His words were spoken quietly, but the tone indicated that it wasn't up to discussion. Not that Merlin had planned on do anything like that. His backside was beginning to hurt like hell. The fact that he had never ridden before probably was the main reason for that. He was just happy that the knight seemed content to take it rather slowly, and that they hadn't gone at a quicker pace than a slow trod; if they had, Merlin was sure he would have fallen off by now, and he had no wish to give his quiet companion a reason to kill him in his sleep or something.

They dismounted and lead the horses the rest of the way to spare their mounts from more unneeded exhaustion.

Luck was with them and a creek ran past their resting place and so it only took them a few minutes to settle down for their meal.

The silence continued and it was nearly driving Merlin mad. At first it had been a relief to have the time to think, but that had just created more worries and questions than he had before, making him ready to explode. Just as he was about to break the silence with a ridiculous and awkward comment about the weather, the knight spoke up again.

"We should be there tomorrow late afternoon. Hopefully long before the gates are closed for the night."

Miley took a swig from his waterskin and looked expectantly at the warlock.

Merlin, a little unsure of what he was supposed to do, opened his mouth but quickly closed it again when he failed to come up with something to say to it. Instead he chose to take a risk and come with the question that had bothered him the most, and hopefully one he would get an answer to.

"Where are we going?"

Maybe it had been a rather stupid question, he could just have waited for them to arrive, and it wasn't like he hadn't a few likely places in mind, but he would like the extra time it would give him to figure out what to do next.

It was rather hard to make a plan, if you didn't know to where you were heading nor why you were traveling that way in the first place …

The knight smirked a little at that, like there was a hidden joke in the question only he knew. After a few seconds the knight seemed to decide he should answer.

"Hopefully, not towards the pyre" he said, and turned his gaze directly to Merlin.

Merlin took a deep breath. Miley didn't have to say anything more. He now knew where they were going. To the place he feared the most, the place he had hoped he would never get to see.

The birthplace of the purge against magic, the home of the King, Uther Pendragon, who was the condemner of hundreds of people accused of practicing magic, or even just interacting with a magic-user - guilty or innocent alike.

It could only be described as murder.

Many had been lucky enough to escape, but the wariness towards magic had already spread to the surrounding kingdoms, so even if magic wasn't banned, it was still feared and magic-users often chose to hide their gifts.

Merlin often wondered if his father was one of those people …

Merlin himself was luckily born outside of the kingdom and a few years after the purge began, but even he had felt how travellers and even their neighbours were frightened of the banned art. It was one of the reasons his mother always told him never to use his magic out in the open; you never knew who would see.

The knight stood up and placed his waterskin back into one of his saddlebacks. His next words were spat out as if they were poison, and to Merlin they could as well have been, as they confirmed his fears.

"We ride to Camelot."

And that was exactly what they did.

~o~o~o~

Eadric sat in his chair and looked out of his window. Or that was what anyone else would see if they had dared enter his chambers. Really the false knight's attention was another place entirely, many miles west from the grey castle.

What he saw was a green world of hills and forests, only a single gleaming white castle disturbing the picture of perfect nature; through the rays of sun hitting the white stones, it looked like a beautiful diamond.

He could feel the sun burning his back, the slight breeze ruffle his hair and the saddle's hard leather under him – as if it was him riding towards the lower town, and not just him looking through another's eyes.

He would have liked to try to take over control again, but the last time had showed him that distance played a bigger role than he had thought it would; even with the warlock only a few meters away from him, it only took a few moments before he could feel his own energy slowly leaving him. Right now, with miles between them, Eadric would surely pass out if he tried, probably worse. He really didn't want that to happen.

Instead he just had to believe in that what he felt was true – that their bond slowly but surely was getting stronger. Either way, he really didn't need anything other than being able to 'see' right now.

As long as Merlin just thought Eadric could control him, it would keep the young warlock in line.

He withdrew himself from the other's mind and returned to himself, certain that Sir Miley would be able to get them safely behind enemy walls.

The second part of their plan was being set in motion.

~o~o~o~

Miley looked at the soldiers guarding the entrance to the lower town. Like he had foreseen, there were still a couple of hours until curfew and the gates were closed, which was good as now the guards just looked bored and took no notice of them as they slipped past.

Merlin stopped, looking up in awe and barely concealed horror, while he tried to take everything in at once. The evening sun sparkled in the white walls, so it looked like there was gold dust in it. The peasants were going in and out of the gates, bearing baskets or dragging wagons with vegetables, wood or fruit, to be traded for ceramic, fabrics or whatever they else needed.

The boy had been very pale and his hands had been shaking as they walked into the city, fighting against his instinct telling him to run. The very same feeling Miley felt as he had looked at the castle, though he concealed it better.

He knew it had been a good idea to tell Merlin where they were going. If he had panicked as they entered through the gates he could have blown their cover. Now he had at least had some time to accept it.

The knight followed the boy's gaze and saw the familiar waving flag of Camelot, a golden dragon resting on a background of deep red. The same flag which had waved  _that_  day - It wasn't the first time he was, here, in Camelot.

_People all around him, squeezing him, making it hard to breathe. Whispers filling his head as the smell of sweat and fear filled his nose. There - a tiny hole in the wall of bodies. A red ring of capes surrounding a pile of wood. Fire. Fire everywhere. Screaming. Panic - Someone was in the fire!_

_His mother, crying and his father not looking at him. Not even as he tucked at his jacket, begging – screaming - for him to do something. Anything._

Why was no one helping?

_Wet on his cheeks, his tears staining the dirty ground._

_His father bending down to him laying his hands on his shoulders, eyes piercing him._ "Stay!" _Before disappearing into the crowd._

"No! Father!"

_Arms grabbing him around the middle. Him – fighting the arms, hitting flesh, screaming, crying._

_Hard wood under him, mother and sister beside him as the screams disappeared together with the white castle behind the hilltops._

Miley shook his head. It wasn't the time for him to be lost in painful memories.

Oh, how he hated this place.

They had dismounted and led their horses towards the stables. Miley had paid a stablehand a few coins and their horses were taken away towards the stables to be taken care of.

He nervously ran his hand through his hair, a stupid habit he had after his father. He let his hand fall and instead focused on his companion.

It was all wrong, it never should have been like this … If just … No. It couldn't happen. Maybe he could ask for a favour … Who was he kidding? The King never gave any favours. He just took what he wanted, because he could.

And now he wanted Camelot, and they were the ones chosen to give it to him.

They walked deeper into the marked, blending into the crowd just as planned. People from all over the kingdoms where coming here, one of the biggest trading places in Albion, to sell or to buy just about anything you could dream of. You could, ironically, probably even find magical items if you knew where to look, but that wasn't their reason to come here.

"This way" He reached out and grabbed Merlin's arm and quickly dragged him into one of the more quiet alleys. The boy stumbled a few times, and Miley had to bit his lip in frustration so he didn't stop. He knew the boy was tired, both physically and emotionally, but it was important that they arrived on time for this.

People sat in the shadows of the buildings; as they passed, their hungry eyes followed them greedily, but no one made a move to follow them. It reminded Miley of his earlier days; he may have been hungry – but at least he had had some kind of freedom. He didn't think these people sitting here would think the same.

Finally they arrived at their destination – the back door to The Rising Sun, the biggest tavern in the city. The place knights and peasant alike would spend the evening, sharing a round with their friends or drowning their sorrows.

The doors where mostly used to smuggle customers out when they passed out without paying. They would wake up the next morning, confused and ripped for everything of value, at the back of a hay cart on their way towards who knew where. Possible never to be seen again.

But it was also used as an entrance for people not wanting to be seen. On the other side of the door was a small room with a table and some chairs – the perfect place to talk about matters best not discussed in the open. Of cause, only if you were willing to pay the heavy price of three gold coins a day.

He released his grip on Merlin's arm and instead placed his hand on his shoulder, forcing the boy to look at him. He tried to give the boy a reassuring smile, though it probably didn't work if he read Merlin's expression right. Well, he had tried.

His expression fell and he instead shoved a pouch filled with coins into the boy's hand.

"Go to the other side and pay for a room, then come back here and knock on the door four times. The password is 'se déaþscúa'." He snorted a little at that himself, but Merlin just looked confused. Apparently Eadric had decided not to teach him the languages of the Old Religion. He wondered why.

"You will meet our contact in there, Boda; he will have further instructions on what you need to do."

That snapped the warlock back from his thoughts. "Wait, what? What do you mean by 'contact'?"

The knight just raised an eyebrow. "Just go and speak with him, I need to go." He turned around and began to walk back to the crowded street, but Merlin had finally gotten over his first many shocks and found his natural courage again, and didn't let him go that quickly.

"Go where?"

The knight turned around once more, now looking slightly annoyed, and made Merlin shrink a little back, remembering who was challenging.

"To find a job."

The knight disappeared quickly before Merlin could open his mouth once more.

_If only …_

_~o~o~o~_

Merlin walked slowly towards the main entrance to The Rising Sun. The small bag with the coins was safely tucked inside an inner pocket in his jacket. He wondered why he couldn't just go through the tavern when he should meet this 'Boda', but appreciated the extra time given to get a grip on all the thoughts running around his head.

In the beginning he had been very scared when entering, thinking the guards would stop them at any moment, shouting "Sorcerer!" and drag them towards the dungeons to wait for his execution. He relaxed a little when they mingled with the many other people in the marketplace, and discovered that as long as he didn't  _act_  suspicions no one would suspect anything, which of course got him to tense once more.

He had thought about running; the knight wouldn't be able to use magic to stop him here, but quickly dismissed it. Even if he managed to escape him, which was very unlikely considering that the other man was in much better shape, and therefore both stronger and quicker than him, the King and Eadric still had his mother. He couldn't let anything happen to her, so he just had to do his best to get this task completed so he hopefully could return quickly to her, and maybe even get home to Will again.

As they came closer to the castle, he hadn't been able to not admire the great construction, all the while imagining the blood running down the road from the fallen and the screams from the condemned as they burned at the stake or faced the ax.

It all created very mixed feelings for him, and he had to swallow and focus on not collapsing as the knight forced him to run on his unstable legs.

It was only now, outside of the tavern, he could think clearly and focus on the task ahead instead of thinking about fleeing.

He stepped inside and was nearly thrown back by the strong stench of ale and the loud voices coming from the drunken men sitting in small groups by the tables.

Only a few glanced up as he entered, but quickly lost interest, assuming he was a servant or peasant and not worth spending their time on. Not when the time could be used to get drunk on the best ale in the kingdom.

Merlin cringed in disgust. He had only tasted ale a few times together with his friend. Resulting in him getting  _very_  drunk, being dragged back by a grinning Will, a few unfortunate magic-slipups and a very long talk with his mother the next day. Not something he found worth trying again.

He walked around the tables of drinking and gambling men, and over to the table with the man who seemed to run the place. He was a big fat fellow, with dirty clothes and an apron around his abdomen. He was currently cleaning a big mug at the size of a small bucket, and Merlin wondered who would be able to drink al that – and then hoped not to meet that kind of man, ever.

Merlin arrived at the table and leaned calmly against it like he didn't have any worries in life, trying to appear completely at ease. Over the last month one of the assassin's many lessons had been how to act and lie convincingly, which mostly involved Merlin getting the task of trying to steal food or wine from the kitchens while supervised by the assassin himself - unnoticed by the kitchen staff, obviously.

He had hidden his magic all his life, and was therefore a very good liar, but he still hated to do it.

Luckily many of the maids apparently had taken a liking to the strange awkward boy, and mostly snuck something for him, without him having to do anything, and he had even picked up a few more tricks he could use here where people didn't know him – like if you acted like you belonged, people would think that was the case.

It was about time he used those skills.

"What would it be?" The bartender abandoned his mug and came over smiling brightly spotting two missing teeth. "Ye' new in town? I don't think I have seen you before, lad." Merlin didn't say anything, but moved his hand under his jacket, while leaning a little forward. He looked around a last time, before pulling the bag out, and found some gold coins, which he laid down on the table.

The bartender got a hungry look in his eyes, and moved to take them, but Merlin beat him to it, and laid his hand over the coins with a little smirk. He didn't usually smirk, but it was rather funny to see the bartender's rather disappointed look.

"I would like to have a room." Merlin quickly dropped his smirk and instead waited with a blank face for the other man to react. The other man finally nodded his eyes still on the covered coins.

"We have a fine room just upstairs, I'm sure you will find suitable."

Merlin nodded his thanks as the man gave him an old rusty key and handed him the coins, before going upstairs and lucking his saddlebags into the room. He wondered how Miley wanted to get in when he had the key, until he remembered that the man had magic and probably knew a spell for such things.

He hurried back down the alley and did what Miley had told, knocking three times on the wooden door and saying the password, making sure to pronounce the strange word correctly. Nothing happened for some time and he wondered if he had done something wrong, but couldn't fandom what, when there sounded a small  _click_  from the door, and it creaked open.

The room was very dark, no windows to light the place up, and it took Merlin a few moments to let his eyes adjust to it, not that it changed much. The only thing in the room was a long table with two chairs on either side.

The thing that made his heartbeat quicken wasn't the lack of lights though, nor the almost claustrophobic atmosphere the size of the room created, but the two men sitting across each other, obviously in the middle of an important discussion which he had interrupted.

The one facing him whispered something to his comrade in a hushed voice so Merlin couldn't identify the words and the other turned around too.

Merlin didn't know what he should do and just said the most intelligent he could think of.

"Ehm … Hey?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words:
> 
> Boda: Messenger  
> Se déaþscúa: (the/that) shadow – the shadow of death, death-shadow, death, spirit of death, devil, one who acts in the dark


	6. Strange places to strange people

**Chapter 5 – Strange places to strange people**  

One of the men sent Merlin a toothy smile.

Merlin slowly stepped further inside, careful to close the door behind him, but remembering exactly where it was so he could make a quick retreat if necessary. He was greeted by the smell of ale and mould as could only be expected from a windowless backroom of a tavern. The only light inside was a single candle flickering on a table, and he blinked several times to adjust his sight.

The darkness made it hard to recognise any striking details, but he could tell that the man closest to him had hair like hay while the other's features were nearly as dark as his own. The dark man chose to be the one to break the awkward silence after Merlin's greeting. "Well, don't just stand there, boy," he said and pointed at an empty chair to his right, "Come sit down instead."

He sat down and looked at the man that had addressed him while still keeping an eye on the other man in the room, unsure of how to proceed and what they expected him to do. Miley hadn't really given any specific instructions. Luckily, he wasn't given the time to ask.

"So … You're Miley's boy, eh?"

Merlin licked his lips. He wasn't sure he was "Miley's" anything, and with him being twenty-three summers old he wouldn't call himself  _boy_ , but he gave a nod all the same.

"A bit lanky for a soldier, aren't you?" The man looked him up and down before grinning again at Merlin's glare. "- But, I suppose you are more than you let on …" he winked. Before he could continue a small cough from the left interrupted him, and they turned their attentions back to the straw-haired man that Merlin had nearly forgotten sat there too.

Apparently, so had the other man, as his smile fell a little. "Right, back to present; I'm Boda, and that lovely fella over there -" He pointed a the man to Merlin's left, "- is Tristan."

Tristan nodded and leaned back on his chair, his stance once again relaxed now the conversation was going in the right direction. His calm, dark eyes found Merlin's and he held his gaze before looking at the candle with a bored expression.

Boda, his smile back on his face, laughed. "He may not look like it, but that man can get you anything! I heard of a man who wanted a Serket! The client was later eaten by it, but this man before you was the one who provided it. All for the right price, boy. All for the right price …"

Tristan rolled his eyes and chose to take the moment to grab a piece of cloth from inside his coat and laid it on the table before Merlin. "This is what Cenred's man asked me to get." His voice was a little rough, though not unkind, and he lifted the fabric with an utmost care as handled he a wounded animal.

Hidden in it laid five small knives made of silver; the blades shined in the candlelight and cast a faint reflection on the smugglers face. He gestured to Merlin to take one, which he did, with utmost care and the slightest of hesitation at prospect of touching a weapon again when he still clearly remembered the last time.

The knife was small, perfect to hide in a hidden pocket, while also being surprisingly light and slim. Precisely how a good knife to throw should look. Merlin swallowed. He had to admit that they were a piece of art, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. He knew they wouldn't stay that spotless like they did now, lying innocently on a bed of weaved wool.

He looked up at the smuggler, who watched him, probably waiting for an answer of the unasked question.

Not quite sure what that query had been, Merlin tried his best.

"It's … It has a good balance." He hoped it was something you said about knives. Tristan seemed to accept it as he gave a nod.

"I think it looks girly to me, add a sapphire or two …" Boda laughed. Tristan's face turned dark as he glared at the so-called contact of Cenred. Merlin was glad looks couldn't kill; or at least he didn't think Tristan possessed any magic …

Boda just grinned wider at the smuggler, either not understanding or ignoring the reason behind the treatment. He swept his eyes over the weapons again before standing up. "Well, Tristan, my friend, it seems we must continue our talk later."

The smuggler grumbled something in reply that Merlin was glad Boda didn't hear; he gave a nod in Merlin's direction and strolled out of the door, the wood slamming shut behind him.

"So now down to the real business," Boda smiled.

~o~o~o~

Sir Eadric, Knight of Nothing, had always been a strange man. The first years of his life were filled with blood and sorrow and at the age of ten he had been all alone. He could no longer remember exactly what had occurred before that moment, but the memory of being all alone and lost in the woods while the rest of the world wanted you dead could never be forgotten. He would have hated that if it hadn't also been that moment where he decided that he would no longer run, but give the world back what it had taken from him. Big words for a boy that young, but words he would live for the rest of his life.

The next months had been a trial of survival for him. Even in summer where the forest was filled with eatable plants and game, a child should never have to live on his own so young. The pain from hunger drove him to one day throw himself at a partridge. The poor bird had given a screech and thrashed in the boys hands, but no matter how hard it scratched or how much pecked at him the boy didn't let go. Instead, he held it in its legs an arm length away and stared, fascinated, at the fighting animal. When hunger once again took over all other thoughts he simply broke its neck and began to eat it, not bothering to remove the feathers or cook it first.

He became a skilled hunter and after the first hard winter in a small cave came to enjoy living in the woods, while always keeping his promise in the back of his mind.

For five years he lived a more or less nomadic life until he one day heard human voices. He had been alone for so long he thought he had imagined it, but as they came closer he could hear the unmistakeable sound of twigs breaking. After so long in the woods Eadric had become like a ghost; he had mastered the soundless steps of a predator and the keen ears of a deer. Long before the men where in sight had he climbed a tree and had clear sight as the men walked by.

He pondered what to do as he watched them come closer. Both men looked like they were around forty, still healthy and strong enough for working without much effort though still old enough to have seen their share of the world to know they were invisible because of that. They wore leather clothing and carried bows over their shoulders, along with all the tools used to set up their snares.

They were trappers; poachers to be more precise.

Not only Camelot was being affected by the Purge; also the neighbour kingdoms had had their share. The war against magic had cost many lives and even more money for the military, and like anyone other war the money was provided by the farmers and workers through higher taxes. As the war continued and the taxes grew steadily, more people began to starve. The number of bandit attacks and thieves that roamed the cities and woods had never been higher and with the focus being on the magic users no one was there to protect the people from these attacks.

The two poachers were only two of the more peaceful of them; normal, honest men who had been driven to become criminals to earn enough money to provide for their families. Sadly they had chosen the wrong place to set up their illegal business that day.

Eadric snarled quietly as he saw them set up a snare. Not only had they come into  _his_ territory they had also impertinence to hunt his prey.

The year before had he tried to fight a puma over a freshly caught rabbit and had nearly ended up getting killed as he only escaped by jumping into a river and diving to the other shore. Since then he had become more careful with choosing his fights and hunted with a slyness only bested by the wolves.

He calculated his opponents' advantages and failures before coming up with his plan. It was all carried out as he followed them until nightfall where they set up camp. He was never seen or heard by the poachers as he sneaked up to them and took them down with his improvised stone knife as he had done so many times with wounded deer.

The next year he expanded his territory closer to the edge of the forest. The more people strayed into his sight the more obsessed did he become with hunting them down. He stole their food and clothes and dragged their bodies into a nearby river to be washed away by the current.

It didn't take long for rumours to start spreading.

A monster lived in the forest told the villagers to every traveller that walked by. It was huge with wings and fangs over a meter long it had, and feasted on human flesh it did. The cruel creature made it dangerous for every person daring to cross it. They said they could hear the victims' cries for help at night.

It was lies of course. Eadric was always quick and silence, his victims never had the chance to scream. He didn't care for the bodies either other than what they had brought with them.

At the age of sixteen he had become exactly what he had run from; a ruthless murderer.

Another few years passed and he became bored. The normal prey didn't provide a challenge and people had a long time ago stopped entering the now cursed forest. The urge to set things right from his childhood combined for the thirst for a new challenge made him leave his protected home in the woods and walk into the real world again after ten years in self-inflicted exile.

He became a man for hire and slowly began to get a good reputation. For every completed task his prices became higher as the risk of getting killed grew. He became known in every kingdom for his untraceable and soundless work.

He lived for the thrill of the hunt, but never did he forget his childhood promise.

Now he looked out of the window in his temporary chambers. From where he stood he was able to watch whoever entered the castle. On the other side of the grey walls was a brown wasteland, but in the horizon he could catch a glimpse of green making him remember times long forgotten.

He turned away as a servant knocked and hurried to set down his plate of food. He quickly dismissed the boy. A quickly mumbled spell to check for poison later he sat down to eat. Another routine he had acquired after a rather embarrassing mistake. Not that there were anyone left alive to tell that tale.

He lost himself staring into his cup of wine, sending his mind to another kingdom where his newest project had just arrived. Pictured played before his eyes, sounds and smells he wasn't near filled his senses. He didn't try anything and just stayed for a little while and listened.

As he returned back to his room he slumped a little forwards, but quickly took a gulp of rich wine and sat up straight once more. It still tired him to use the connection, but it was getting better maybe he would research some more spells or something. Regardless what the outcome was, contrary to Cenred he was a patient man. He could wait for the right moment to present itself.

~o~o~o~

"So …" Boda said, the stupid smile still in place. "I think we should start with the most important thing; the castle." He opened a small room in the table that Merlin hadn't been able to see from his angle. Inside were lots of documents, all looking very formal and important, before taking one and unrolled it on the table.

It was a map over Camelot's citadel and lower town. The walls where drawn a think black lines while all the cranks and alleys were unmistakeable with every building or shop adding in details. Merlin had never seen a map before, and he was sure he would never see one to precise as the one before him.

The time it must have taken to draw it … He could barely imagine it.

Only one path on the map was completely bare. The castles walls were all drawn carefully shoving two known entrances, but on the other side was the unknown.

Boda nodded at his confusion.

"It's not as easy to get in there as it seems. The guards inside are all handpicked by the castle steward and the head knight. All the other guards are being stationed on the outer walls. Not much use for us there, eh?"

Merlin shook his head and asked the question he had wanted to ask since he came to the city, "But then, what are we supposed to do?"

Boda just shrugged and laughed again, "No idea, that's not my job. I couldn't see you as a soldier either, lad."

Merlin didn't comment on it, even if he knew that he very well could have been one, instead he let Boda continue.

"I can tell you that other than getting the planes that show the inside of the citadel, you also need to find out the guards routines and if there are any secret entrances; everything worth knowing really."

He explained a little about the lower town and the normal city life and traditions, most of it was very like how Merlin grew up, with the exception of the daily patrols and threat of being caught.

Boda smirked when he came to that part, "Always a great day when you can throw a rotten turnip at some unlucky lad in the stocks …"

Merlin wasn't sure he agreed with that it sounded rather like a gross punishment to him, but he supposed very light compared with so much else. His thoughts went to the pyre and he shuddered.

"Now to your cover story …"

Merlin returned to the present at once, "Wait what?"

For the first time Boda's smile didn't reach his eyes, "In this kind of business it's always safer. Some chance their background others chose to chance their names." He shrugged again while looking at the door.

"You're not from around here and it's very unlikely anyone would recognise you. Just use your own name, but if anyone ask: say you are from the village Sutton in the south. There're only a few farmers down there and no one would question why you wanted to move."

Merlin agreed to use the story and when Boda started to talk about rumours he had heard in the tavern, Merlin concluded that he didn't have anything more and quickly hid the knives in his boots and inner pockets before excusing himself with a thank you thrown over the shoulder.

He could hear Boda laughing at him when he closed the door.

He didn't really care. He had a knight of Essetir to find.

~o~o~o~

Their room at the tavern was very small, the light from a single window shoved that much. They had done nothing to hide the stains and dirt on the floor and the bed looked like it would collapse. Merlin didn't mind. He had spent his childhood sleeping on the floor, and here was dry and much warmer at night than outside as soon as he closed the shutters. He had had much worse.

Miley seemed good with it too as he didn't comment when he late that evening strode into the room and threw his back into the corner. They talked a little about what Boda had told Merlin, though mostly it was just Miley commenting on some of the things.

The knight seemed tired and even more withdrawn than before. Merlin could smell the ale from his breath, and choose wisely not to comment.

When he finally pulled himself together enough to ask what he had done the whole day, the knight had grumbled something about getting assigned the job as a soldier patrolling the outer walls of the citadel.

Remembering Boda's words made Merlin wonder how he had managed that. He didn't doubt that he wouldn't have liked the reason had the knight told him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> Sutton: Town in the south


	7. A glimmer of gold

**Chapter 6 - A glimmer of gold**

Strange shapes filled his dreams filled his dreams that night. Faces swam into focus and disappeared again. Scenes played inside of his mind, some well-known and others having never happened. Voices whispered things into his ears he knew he should remember, but as he woke had forgotten.

That was when he laid there on the floor, eyes still closed to relish in the last moment of the warm comfort of sleep that he realised that the voices hadn't all disappeared.

_… u earss mrsss …_

_... mrr… ss?_

Merlin shifted to the other side and pulled his blanket up to cover his ears.

_So much for sleeping in._

When he finally woke enough to comprehend the saturation the voice had already disappeared. Shaking his head to clear it he stood up and pulled on his boots and slipped two of his knives safely inside. The three others were safely hidden in the bottom of his knapsack.

He looked back at his blanket; a few hours of sleep sounded promising.

With a sigh he stood up and slung his things over his shoulder while shooting a look at the still sleeping knight. Last evening Miley had decided it would be best for Merlin to look for a job himself, it would be better if people inside the castle didn't know that they knew each other. It was another reason for the knight to arrive later last night. He had told Merlin that he had made it look like he stayed at another tavern in the other end of town.

'Look like' was another phrase for getting drunk, Merlin added inside of his head.

Merlin hoped he would wake up with a hell of a headache. He smirked a bit at the thought.

He walked down the stairs to the main room of the tavern. There weren't many people at that early hour; most only stayed in the evening, sometimes later, but most were either gone or kicked out in the morning. Only a single man slept on a table- a knight, going by his chainmail and rich clothing; this was without a doubt why he hadn't suffered the same treatment.

Merlin scanned the room and sat down by a table close to the door. He had a few coins in his pocket and bought some porridge for breakfast. The barmaid smiled at him as she came with his food and he shyly returned the gesture.

He was surprised by the taste of the food. At home his mother sometimes used herbs to make the porridge taste better, something he knew not many knew how to do or didn't dare for the fear of being accused of being a witch. His mother had found it ridiculous, but still only used the herbs when no one visited. Merlin had thought in the middle of Camelot that fear would have been bigger.

To serve it to a stranger …

Merlin's mother had always laughed when her son asked one question after the other; she encouraged Merlin's curiosity, while still warning him to be careful. She knew that her son usually used it to draw his attention from his secrets, and he had a never ending thirst for knowledge, something that had let her to teach him to read and write at a very young age.

Now that urge made him call the barmaid over again.

"Did you want anything else?" she asked as she arrived at his table.

He smiled at her again and quickly pointed at his now empty bowl. "I have to ask what make it taste that good."

She laughed at him, making him blush a little.

"It's cinnamon,* it comes from the market."

"Merchants come here?" He shouldn't really have been that surprised Camelot was a big city in a rich kingdom.

She grinned. "You are not from here are you?"

He shook his head with a smile. "No"

The knight woke up by his table and looked around bewildered and groaned. The barmaid heard it and smiled. "I have to go, but I would recommend you to take a look at the market, it's just up to the right."

He thanked her and hurried out the door. He was nearly running towards the market. He supposed he could look after a job there as well as any other place, and he had always wanted to visit such a place. In Ealdor they had sometimes exchanged clothing and food with each other, sometimes even taking the three-hour trip on foot to the nearest bigger village if they needed something special, but never had he seen anything like what greeted him at Camelot's marketplace.

Rows with different shops and stands were all around him as he mingled with the other interested customers.

The merchants all tried to make themselves heard above the others. Some didn't even talk the same language or had a strange accents. Together with colourful clothes, fine silks and decorated pottery it was a whole new world to a country boy like Merlin.

He looked around in awe until he spotted a small stand at the edge of the place. He made his way over, for once thanking his lanky frame as he could easily squeeze through the crowd. He arrived at the herbstand.

He admired all the different plants, their smells nearly overwhelming him; there was many of them he could name, those used by his mother, but many more he had no idea what they were. He spotted a plant that made his eyes widen. "You have Rosemary?"

The elderly woman, that owned the stand, looked up surprised. Then she smiled, "You know your herbs, young man."

"Only a few," Merlin said, shrugging. The woman seemed kind; deep warmth was in her eyes along with something Merlin couldn't place. He let his shoulders relax. He hadn't even known he had been that tense.

The woman hummed and looked him over. "And what does a lad like you do here? I haven't seen you before."

Merlin hesitated a little, but couldn't see why he shouldn't tell her. "I am looking for a job; you wouldn't know of anyone needing an extra hand do you?"

The woman seemed deep in thought for a moment before coming with her own question. "Where did you learn the name of the herb?"

Surprised by the question, Merlin narrowed his eyes, wondering how much he should tell her. Going with the truth seemed to be the easiest way.

"My mother once helped some patients …" He faltered a little, should he continue? Deciding to do it he went on. "She knew of a few herbs and taught me. Nothing special really"

The woman just nodded with a knowing smile, her gaze steady as if she had just made a decision. "I may have a job for you."

~o~o~o~

The main road towards the citadel was nearly deserted, the people either at work or down by the market. A few guards patrolled the walls while only two stood by the entrance. They were leaning against the wall, looking bored and eyeing him with disinterest. When he stood before them and they noticed a stranger was about to walk right in, they jumped up at the chance for some excitement.

"Halt!" One of them shouted as they both hurried to cross their halberds, ending with one of them nearly dropping his as he lost his grip. Merlin swallowed a snort and stopped before them.

"Who goes there?"

Merlin nearly rolled his eyes, and remembering his alias replied, "Merlin of Sutton!"

The guards stared dumbly at him, having never heard of a village with that name before. Merlin was glad; that meant his cover would hold.

"I need to see the Court Physician Gaius; Alice sent me." The guards accepted the answer and reluctantly moved, having hoped that Merlin hadn't an answer. They hadn't seen any action in ages and were a little eager to find some. Merlin was once again glad that he had met the woman by the herbstand. If she hadn't told him what to say, he would probably still be standing before the guards, blabbering, until he found a good enough reason to get inside.

The citadel looked much better close up, and Merlin swallowed before stepping into the courtyard. The white stones, beautiful for most people, looked like the colour of bones to him. The strong walls should have felt like protection, but reminded him too much of a prison for him to be at ease. He took a deep breath and calmed down a little before striding over the courtyard with fast, strong steps, ignoring the place where he could nearly imagine a scorched speck would be.

He followed Alice's instructions and found the way towards the physician's tower without any trouble. He walked up the stairs and stopped by an old wooden door, where a sign with neat letters proclaimed 'Court Physician', and knocked.

By the second nod, a mumbled reply sounded, and taking it as enough invitation Merlin walked inside.

The first thing that hit him was the smells; first the different dried and fresh herbs like by Alice's stand, then the strange odours coming from the many potions and when he finally stood inside of the room, the dry scent of old books and new ink. He took a deep breath, getting the strange feeling of being home although he'd never been anywhere like this before.

The potions stood everywhere; on the tables, in the corners, even on the shelves by the books. The colours were like the merchants' clothing; in every colour you could imagine and in many different textures, all of them in bottled up in their own corked flask. Merlin eyed a strange grey-green mixture resembling what you may find in a bog; he hoped he would never need to drink that one.

Hundreds of books stood on book shelves and shared the tables with inkbottles and parchments, while the herbs lay in baskets and hung from the ceiling, making the room look even smaller, but not less homey.

His eyes narrowed when he couldn't see the physician anywhere, even though he had just heard him. He decided he must have misheard and made up his mind to wait until Gaius came again. He looked down at the open book before him and turned a page, careful not to damage it, as he began to read.

A sound from behind his back startled him and made him jump around in a defensive position, a hand going towards his right boot for his knife.

As an elderly man came down a few stairs from a side room Merlin straightened up, and assuming this was the physician, plastered a smile on his face that he hoped looked friendly and not like he had just been about to throw a weapon at the poor man.

Cursing himself for nearly giving himself away by being so blind and slightly shocked over his own reaction, Merlin focused on the man before him instead as he looked up and raised an impressive eyebrow at the young warlock. He was dressed in a long green robe that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else.

"And what can I do for you, good lad?"

Having being prepared for the question Merlin didn't miss a beat with his answer. "I am looking for a job; Alice sent me."

The old man's other eyebrow joined the first. "You talked with Alice."

Merlin nodded.

"Hmm … Well, I could do with a little help. What's your name, boy?"

 _That word again_. "Merlin, sir."

The old man's eyes widened comically, "Hunith's son?"

It was Merlin's turn to be shocked.  _How did this man know his mother's name?_  He obviously knew who she was and, scared he would be discovered, came up with the best answer he could. "N-no, my mother's called … Ethelinda." He stuttered out. Merlin hoped it sounded confident and not as panicked as he felt. He also sent a thought to Will's mother, asking forgiveness for using her name, but it was the first name that flashed through his mind.

"Ah." Was the physician's only reaction, his eyes now sad as he cast a look out of his window before sending Merlin a small smile. "I suppose you can help me the next week, and then we will see what you can do?"

Merlin thanked the man gratefully, and gladly accepted when the physician offered him the small side room to stay for the week and then excused himself to get some things he left at the Rising Sun. In reality he only used the excuse to get back to talk with Miley.

He was sad to note that it already felt bad to lie to the kind old man who had just lent a part of his home to a complete stranger that, very well, could end up causing his death.

~o~o~o~

He reported back to the essetirian knight and even got a small smile out of him, though Merlin believed it may have been more because of the hangover remedy he had bought by Alice on his way. He only just returned to the physician's chambers when Gaius dragged him with on his rounds, all the while talking about their different sicknesses and what treatments he used. Merlin came with his own inputs when he could, while Gaius gave instructions and corrected his mistakes.

By the time they'd finished Gaius had begun to warm up to him and let the conversation stray from work to stories about the castle and its people. Merlin hoped, for the Gaius' sake, that the kitchen maids never found out how much gossip the elderly man knew...

They stood before the entrance to the tower when they were stopped by a blond man bearing Camelot's chest on his scarlet cloak. Merlin guessed him to be a knight, and was proven right when Gaius addressed him with a respectful nod. Merlin quickly followed while keeping his eyes to the ground, not wanting to call attention to himself.

"Sir Leon, what can I do for you?"

"Gaius! I have been looking for you. You are needed one the trainings ground; one of the new recruits got himself injured."

Gaius nodded and hurried towards the grass field, outside the citadel, that the knights used to train on. Sir Leon had to half-jog beside them to keep up, as Gaius was surprisingly fast for his age. He shot Merlin a glance for time to time. Merlin was unsure if he should say anything, and was glad when Gaius saved him.

"Ah yes, that's Merlin. He will be acting as my assistant the upcoming week."

The knight accepted the answer and quickly went off to, whatever things he needed to do, when he had made sure Gaius had the situation under control.

They arrived at the field and Merlin let himself fall back a little to take everything in unnoticed. He counted the knights currently training and stored it away for later. He supposed it counted as some of the useful information Boda had asked him to gather.

The field was full of sweating men, all of them holding weapons, though mostly swords, and attacking each other. The clanging of dulled metal filled the air along with the grunts and growls from the sweating men. Some of the older knights seemed like they were engaged in a dance, moving gracefully and with a speed the eye had a hard time following. These, Merlin knew, were the ones that mattered; those who had gained Camelot the reputation of having some of the most skilled knights in all of Albion.

Further down the line, where they were currently headed towards, were the newest knights and the squires who were still waiting to pass the test. Merlin watched them all closely. He may only have been trained in fighting in a very short time, but his training had been nothing if not intense, something these boys hadn't tried yet. He wasn't sure if he envied or pitied them.

He could see that a few of them had potential, but many didn't. Some of them had a hard time not  _dropping_ their swords.

Merlin smirked inwardly. He usually wasn't arrogant, but knowing that he could take on most of them, with or without magic, and ending up as the victor filled him with confidence. He realised he hadn't used it since being in Cenred's castle and wasn't sure if he dared use it yet.

Gaius was now nearly by the recruits and Merlin hurried to catch up so they ended up arriving at the same time.

Standing around the injured man were three other knights, one of them bearing a guilty expression while continuously shooting glances from the golden-haired knight beside him to the injured one before him. The recruit had been placed on a bench and stripped of his armour, his undershirt already stained red. The colour matched the other knights' cloaks frightening well.

Merlin froze for a second by the sight, remembering a time that seemed so long ago, but was really only about a week ago, when he had been in another castle in another kingdom. He shivered and buried the memory down where it would hopefully be forgotten.

Gaius began to unpack his tools and bottles and Merlin hurried to help, letting the importance of his job fill his mind until no other thought could creep inside.

The young warlock shook his head slightly as he saw the young patient's tense limbs as he thought not to show his pain. He was only making it worse; it was all about having control …

Gaius cleaned the wound and showed Merlin how to lay a proper bandage. Lastly he found a few bottles of painkillers instructing the young man to take one every evening before he went to bed. When the physician took a step back the golden-haired knight spoke up for the first time, asking, "Gaius, will he be okay?"

The knight's light blue eyes pleaded with the physician though his calm stance didn't change. Most people would call the air he carried around him noble. Merlin called it arrogance.

"He should be fine, sire. Nothing major is wrong with him so long as he rests for the next few days. He should make a full recovery."

The knight nodded, looking relieved as he padded the newbie on his shoulder and strode away towards the castle, a young boy with dark curls, his servant or squire, following behind.

Merlin stared after him, his lips curling up into a smile. Gaius had called him _sire_. The young man must have been no other than the King's son, Prince Arthur Pendragon.

_Interesting._

_~o~o~o~_

The side room in the physician's chambers was not much bigger than a cupboard. Somehow a bed and a small drawer had been squeezed inside and the room even had a single window overlooking the lower town. Merlin smiled. The room was private, secure and inside the citadel. No one could say he had failed in his task until now, and so his mother was still safe.

He was currently lying on the bed and tried to get himself to focus over the book:  _Common Herbs and Their Uses._  Merlin guessed it to have been written over a century ago by some old hermit or something; it was written as boring as humanly possible. He had laid there a whole hour and hadn't even finished the first chapter.

When he had arrived back with Gaius, the old physician had begun to ask more questions about his skills and had been happily surprised when Merlin told him that he was literate. Now, while staring at the big book he was supposed to have read by the end of the week, the young warlock wondered if it had been the best thing for him to do.

He fought his way through one hundred and eighteen different ways to use chamomile for medicine before noticing that the next ten pages only spoke about Valerian, and gave up. Instead he flipped over to lie on his back and just stared at the celling.

_Maybe he could just close his eyes for a second …_

"MERLIN!"

He yanked awake and fell of the bed. He laid there groaning as Gaius opened the door and raised an already well-known eyebrow as he noticed the boy on the floor.

"Well get up; food is ready." The physician walked down again and Merlin stayed another few seconds before shuffling after him.

After dinner Merlin decided to walk out to explore the castle a little. Gaius warned him to come back before curfew and not to do anything stupid and Merlin promised him to do his best.

The last golden sunrays lit up the castle and dyed the white walls in deep amber colours. The evening air was slightly cold and Merlin was glad he had taken his jacket with him. The townsfolk were beginning to head home for the night and the merchants were closing their stands.

He managed to catch Alice again as she was on her way home.

"How did it go by Gaius, dear?" She asked with her warm smile lighting up her eyes. Merlin gave her a big grin back, a gestured he had repeated more after arriving at the city than he could remember ever having reason to.

"I am allowed to try it out for the week."

Alice chuckled a little and laid her hand on his shoulder. Her wise eyes bore into his as she said, "It will all turn out right; you'll see."

Merlin got the strange feeling she meant more than just the job.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I don't know if cinnamon was used at that time, but as they use tomatoes and potatoes in the show … I thought I could use this too
> 
> Names:
> 
> Ethelinda: Noble snake


	8. What hides in the shadows

**Chapter 7 – What hides in the shadows?**

The next few days were mostly spent helping Gaius out in the physician's quarters, but sometimes he would be sent to deliver a potion or two, find herbs in the woods or buy them by Alice, who Merlin discovered was very close to Gaius. This gave him some knowledge of the castle structure, though he only ever visited the knights' quarters or some of the minor lords'. Unsure what to do with the new information, he slipped some ink, a feather and some sheets of parchment into his room and tried to draw some of the corridors.

The maps he created were sparse on details and filled with blank spaces and corrected lines; it didn't make it any easier that the castle had more than one floor, but as the days went by they slowly filled out. He would have to have a good excuse if he ever wanted to find the council chambers or some other important room. He didn't even know where the kitchen was yet, but he supposed that Gaius would send him down there soon.

He had fallen into something akin to a routine and had his thoughts not been with his mother back in Essetir, he may even have enjoyed the small chores so different from working in the fields or gathering firewood back home.

Gaius shouted him awake an hour before dawn; though a little early for Merlin's taste, the mornings were his favourite time of the day. He sometime stole a moment after breakfast and watched as the morning sun bathed the whole city in golden light, while the people slowly began their daily chores and let the fresh air back inside their houses through open windows. That first quiet hour of the day was something otherworldly; a time where you could forget everything else than right now and worry about tomorrow later.

The chore of making breakfast was something Merlin had taken to doing after a rather bad first experience with Gaius porridge. He had asked as discreetly as possible, yet he was sure Gaius saw right through him. The old man saw many such details and Merlin tried not to squirm at his searching looks Gaius sent at him from time to time. Like the time Gaius had tried to show him how to correctly grind the herbs and then nearly jumped back when Gaius touched the warlock's hand; the physician's eyebrow had been very high on his brow, and for a moment Merlin had thought that he was surely done for. However, the physician had just returned to teaching him, though Merlin had caught him frowning more than once.

A week went by without any great events. Merlin had seen nothing of Miley since reporting back to him when he got the temporary job. He wondered what the knight was up to. They were sent here for a reason, and Merlin wasn't stupid; it would only be a matter of time before this break would be over and something happened. The question was: what? He wasn't certain he wanted to know; it would make it all more real and right now reality wasn't really something Merlin was all that impressed with - he would have been fine with just continue to live this dream and never wake again.

Of course, Merlin had never been known for his good luck and reality knocked at the chamber door and a soldier stepped in.

"The council is gathering in the Courtroom. You presence has been requested."

The man's voice was a little on the high note; he was clad in chainmail a little too big and an old helmet which hid most of his face. The eyes staring out of the slits looked nervous and Merlin wondered if it was normal, hiring that young a man as a soldier, or if it was an effect of Uther's long war against magic. Either way, it left a bad taste in Merlin's mouth; wherever the man was employed willingly, or caught up in the war like Merlin, it would still be one of these young men Merlin would probably send to their death. Young men with families waiting in vain for their son or brother to return. Families who would never see their father or husband again. Merlin had to look away.

"Of course," answered Gaius and sat the finished bottle on the shelf next to the others. "Merlin"

Merlin looked up. "Stay here. You can grind some chamomile and wolfsbane until I get back." Merlin nodded and reached for the herbs and placed them into the mortar while the physician followed the soldier out of the chambers.

Merlin looked over his shoulder to check that they were gone for certain before following them.

It didn't take long before he had caught up to the pair as they strode down one of the main corridors. Merlin made sure to stay a good way behind them, as it would give him away to everyone else if he had to hide. He tried to look casual, like he belonged and knew where to go like any other servant walking around between knights and pages. The closer they came to the chambers of the lords and ladies the more traffic there was; soon it became hard to keep track of Gaius and the guard and Merlin slacked a little on his caution, instead trying to keep them in sight.

The pair disappeared around a corner and Merlin hurried his steps to not lose them –

And ended up running into someone coming around the corner. White sheets rained down at him and he was buried under them. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Said a female voice above him and she hurried to pull down the sheet from his head.

A young woman stood before him. She was clad in a dress the colour of buttercups. It stood out nicely against her dark skin, Merlin noted before she began to pick up the spilled clothing, still trying to excuse herself. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you!"

Merlin shook his head and got to his feet. He gave her the sheet that had landed on him. "It's okay. I didn't see you either," he reassured her, and smiled to show her that he meant what he said.

She looked up at him for the first time and blinked. "Oh. You are new."

Merlin looked around, a little hesitant, and scratched his head. Gaius and the guard had both disappeared in the crowd.

"Not that I am saying that you shouldn't be here … Ehm."

Merlin wasn't sure if he should say something, so he didn't.

"Are you looking for the prince?"

The question caught him by surprise. "Eh, what?" He must have looked truly lost in that moment, because the woman quickly continued.

"Oh, I just thought … but … It doesn't matter. I'm Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen." 'Gwen' blushed.

"Nice to meet you Gwen, I'm Merlin." Merlin introduced, quickly jumping at the chance to change the subject.

Gwen smiled and then recognition lit her eyes up. "Oh, you're Gaius' new assistant; I have heard about you …" She quickly backtracked, "Only good things of course!"

Merlin was surprised that she knew who he was; news certainly travelled fast here, and he only managed an unsure, "Right …"

They stood a little stiffly and both seemed unsure how to proceed. Merlin pointed over his shoulder; no point staying here when he couldn't get to the council any longer. "I should probably get going …"

"Yes, yes, of course - I should too. Morgana will be looking for me." Guinevere waved a little and hurried around him and down the corridor. Merlin looked after her, a little bemused and not at all confident in what just happened, before striding down the same way at a much slower pace.

When Gaius returned to the chambers hours later, Merlin had ground the herbs and had fallen asleep atop of  _Common Herbs and Their Uses_. Two bowls were on the table; one was still filled with cold stew.

The old man chuckled softly and laid a blanket over the sleeping boy.

~o~o~o~

The next morning came with an irritating ache in his neck from sleeping on the table. Merlin groaned and rubbed the sore spot. When it didn't help he looked to the shelf longingly; maybe there was a potion that could help? He didn't get the chance to look when Gaius shoved a bottle into his right hand and a piece of bread into the other.

"Up you get, Merlin. The young Jolenta down by the east entrance has not quite gotten over her cough. Tell her to take it before she sleeps." Merlin nodded and walked towards the door when Gaius called after him. "I will prepare something for you to when you get back." Merlin raised a hand in thanks and ran down the stairs, and out in the late morning sun.

He exited the castle, went over the drawbridge, and navigated himself to the eastern entrance. It was much smaller than the main entrance, and only used by the city residents to haul firewood through from the forest in winter, so only a few people were in that part of the city at the moment. He hummed a little to himself and winked at a few children running around.

He found the house quite easily; he had visited a few days before with Gaius when the young girl had had a fever. The fever had broken, but Gaius had kept an eye on her until he was certain that it would not come back.

The mother opened the door and smiled at him when she recognised him.

"I brought this from Gaius. He says she should take it before going to bed."

The woman thanked him gratefully and Merlin felt a little better about himself than he had for the last few days. First meeting Gwen and helping people together with Gaius; maybe not all was lost.

He took a shortcut through an alley and ended back up on one of the bigger streets, allowing the shouting from the merchants to draw him back towards the market. The different stalls were being set up and the first kitchen maids were already looking at a few vegetables to his right. An apple nearly tripped him when it rolled in his way, but he managed to keep his balance and smiled to reassure the frightened boy who had dropped it. Now, keeping a closer eye on the ground, he was caught by surprise when someone grabbed his jacket.

His right hand grabbed the hilt of one of his knives in reflex before he registered it was the boy with the apple from before. He released his grip on the weapon.

The boy was still looking at him wide-eyed, and he decided to help him on his way. "Hello again." The boy had yet to release his jacket and didn't seem to remember it as he continued to stare.

"Did you need something?" Maybe the boy was lost? Even though it was far too early for a real crowd to gather.

The boy shook his head at the question and instead showed him a little piece of parchment in his hand. "They said to give it to you," the boy mumbled, and Merlin took the offered note.

The boy turned around to run, but Merlin grabbed his arm before he got more than a few steps away. The boy froze and Merlin released him at once, whispering, " _Who_?"

The boy shook his head again and this time when he tried to flee, Merlin let him go. He stood a moment and looked as the boy disappeared into the crowd. Merlin wondered if he had been one of the homeless children living by the outer wall. He hoped he at least had been paid some coin. Those people had a hard time already. They would be the first ones to die if the castle came under siege due to being the last allowed to go through the siege tunnels.

Merlin shook his head. He couldn't do anything against it right now. Actually, he could do nothing at all beside hope that whatever plan the assassin had would go wrong somehow.

He hurried back to the castle, quickly nodded to the bored guards that recalled him from earlier and let him pass the drawbridge again. Gaius hadn't come back from his own rounds in the castle yet, and only a bottle of some greenish paste was left on the table. Merlin smiled when he recognized it and quickly applied it to his neck, which burned a little, but made the muscles relax and the pain disappear.

The note was very short; a single sentence was written in an elegant scribble.

**_Shadows are cast by the rising sun. M._ **

To everyone else it would make little sense, but Merlin knew what it meant.

His break had just ended.

~o~o~o~

He had to stay back in the chambers and help Gaius until night fell. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his thoughts always drifted back to the message. He had acted on instinct and burnt it as soon as he had read it - not a moment too soon, because Gaius came through door not a minute later.

Since then he had helped Gaius prepare painkillers and potions against commons illnesses. At that moment he was stirring a clear purple one which Gaius had revealed to be a sleeping draught for the lady Morgana. Merlin remembered Gwen mentioning her and asked who she was.

Gaius sent him a hard stare over his glasses, hands resting folded on the book he was currently reading. "Merlin. Don't get any ideas."

Merlin looked up, confused. What had he done?

"I just heard her name mentioned today. Is she a lady of the royal court?" It couldn't hurt to know a little about the people close to the King.

The old physician sighed. "Yes, she is the King's ward – which is why you should keep away from her!" The last part was said with a deepening of the glare. Merlin quickly looked back down at the potion and nodded. Gaius used this to comment on his work and ask how much he had read in his book, successfully dropping the topic.

Gaius let him have an hour of freedom after dinner that evening. Camelot's streets were still filled with people, but a slight hush had fallen over everyone. The children were herded back inside and everyone prepared to finish their tasks of the day.

Soldiers began to head out to stand on the street corners and the patrols changed to night shifts as the sun slowly disappeared behind the walls.

Merlin kept a close eye on them. He was sure he blended in perfectly. He was careful to walk with a casual gait and hoped to be mistaken for a young man out for an evening drink after work.

Light was streaming from the tavern. High laughter could be heard from the other end of the street as bakers and soldiers alike gathered for a break. The old sign of a yellow sun painted on a blue background creaked when he walked closer. A small breeze ruffled his hair and he shuddered in the cold. The days were getting shorter even if they were still warm. Soon the wind would be howling in every hole and leaking groove and snow would wash the whole world white and clean. It would mean more time spent inside, but also more work for he and Gaius when people fell prey to sicknesses because of hunger and the cold.

He took a deep breath to calm down his heart, which was trying to gallop out of his chest. The wave of sound hit him when he opened the door. He ignored the odours and voices and focused on the task at hand. He strode towards the counter without gazing at everything else, though he kept track of the other costumers from the corners of his eyes. The bartender smiled a little stiffly at him and pointed at a door behind him. Merlin gave a curt nod and slipped behind the man without missing a beat.

He knocked thrice and whispered the same code from the first time, certain that the people inside would hear him regardless, and opened the door to slip inside the small back room.

The room had not changed since the last time and was just as dark as before. The two chairs were once again occupied by two men, though Boda didn't look as happy of that fact as last time.

The other man nodded at Merlin when he slowly closed the door behind him. He leaned back in his chair; his head was tilted slightly to one side and, while he looked expectantly at the messenger, his words were directed at Merlin.

"You took your time."

"Gaius kept me busy until dinner." Merlin wondered if Miley had waited the whole day for him in here, and that was the reason for the otherwise smiling messenger's sour scowl. That or they had some story from the past. Merlin wouldn't be surprised; it wasn't like  _he_  was told anything. He was just the one stumbling around in the dark, after all.

Miley hummed a little and Boda turned his glare to the table, his mouth twisted in anger. "I can understand you had something to tell us,  _messenger_ ," the knight drawled.  _Yes, definitely some past disagreement there._  Boda sent one last glare to Miley and then completely ignored him in favour of settling his gaze on Merlin.

"Well, on with it. The important part that is," Boda said. Miley snorted from his side of the table. Boda's smile, already forced, now looked more like a grimace.

"The walls whisper that Odin has hired Myror to kill the prince -"

"Who’s Myror?" Merlin interrupted. Boda sounded like Merlin should know who 'Myror' was. Well, Merlin didn’t.

"A well-known assassin. Not magical, luckily." Miley supplied.

"- and he needs to be stopped." Boda finished in a firm voice.

Miley tapped a finger on the table. "We will use every mean possible."

This time it was Boda who snorted. He mumbled something under his breath, but didn't say anything else.

Merlin was confused; was that all? Didn't Cenred and the assassin want the royal family dead? What better way to destroy the King than letting him grieve over his dead son?

Merlin thought back to the one time he had met him. At that time he hadn't seemed like the stories of the Pendragon-king he had heard Ealdor, but maybe that was because there wasn't magic involved. Or, a little part of his mind whispered, the prince was not like his father - but such thoughts were dangerous at times like these, and they still didn't answer why King Cenred worried about the prince being killed.

Miley followed him back out of the tavern. Merlin didn't say anything and just kept his attention on his feet. He had a bad habit of stumbling at the worst times possible, and walking on uneven streets at night wasn't exactly ideal.

"What's on your mind?"

Merlin looked up in surprise and nearly fell flat on his face. He caught himself just in time.

"You were frowning," Miley explained.

"I-" Merlin paused. Should he continue? He couldn't see why not. "Why does the King want to stop Myror? I thought he wanted to take Camelot, and the kingdom would be weak if the prince was killed." He thought a little. "And why does King Odin want to assassinate him? I thought Camelot and Odin where at peace."

The corner of the knight's mouth turned slightly upwards. "One question at a time."

He took a solid grip on Merlin's arm and yanked him down an alley just as a few soldiers marched past. It was only now Merlin noticed the sword strapped at his hip. The knight's grip on the hilt was firm, but the soldiers walked past without noticing them.

They continued down the road and Miley lowered his voice even more. "Prince Arthur killed Odin's son in single combat a few years ago and Odin blamed the Prince, despite the fact that it was his own son who threw the gauntlet and refused to back down."

"And Cenred?"

"Doesn't care if the prince dies or not. Eadric is the one who wants Myror stopped."

Merlin looked at the knight in surprise – surely the assassin didn't have that kind of power over the King?

"Why?" He looked closely at the other man, but Miley didn't turn his gaze even once.

"I don't know."

~o~o~o~

A week after the meeting, Merlin and Gaius were called to the gates early in the morning. Merlin had used the days after his meeting with Boda and Miley to read as much as he could while helping Gaius with whatever he asked. The older man had chuckled at his eagerness, but finally relented and let him keep the position as his assistant. "As long as you don't hang around now that you have the job." Merlin promised to do his best, earning a pat on the shoulder.

This morning the atmosphere was different. The sky was just as blue as the day before, no clouds were in sight – but still the world felt clouded and dull. The colours were not as bright and the few birds sitting on the wall just couldn't reach the right notes, as the rusty red pools of blood were soaking up anything remotely happy, like bread soaked up soup from a supper bowl.

Two guards lay dead at their posts; arrows had pierced their throats and left them to drown in silence, only to be found by their replacements. Merlin spied Miley standing in the shadows of a nearby building, looking calmly at the scene, but not many others were yet awake and they stayed away from the small group around the two corpses.

When Merlin looked over again the knight had disappeared.

The Prince himself stood there alongside two knights- the curly-haired Sir Leon and a lightly tanned, unnamed man.

"Can you add anything, Gaius?" The prince sounded tired. The physician kneeled down to first guard and turned him on his back. He slowly pulled out the arrow, looked closely at the bloodied tip and cautiously smelled it. "Could be …"

"What?" The prince was frowning and didn't look like he knew what was going on any more than Merlin did.

"Poison. Could be - but it would be very unlikely; very few poison acts that quickly."

The prince looked down the street and then back at the two dead men. "But who would use poison if their aim is true?"

"I do not know, sire."

Merlin swallowed. He thought he had a very good idea of whom.

The prince nodded. "Sir Leon, make sure to have the guards doubled." Sir Leon bowed and left with the other knight. The prince then turned to them. "Gaius, see if you can find anything else, I need to take this to the King."

_It may already be too late_ , though Merlin sadly. Myror had already arrived and he had already claimed his first victims. Hopefully they would also be his last.

His wishes, however, were not exactly being listened to the last few months.

The dead guards by the gates were only the beginning, and even with the increased patrols, every morning dead guards were found and the knights were no closer to finding the killer. Not that Merlin actually thought they would find him; he didn't think King Odin would hire someone incompetent enough to be caught by Camelot's guards.

Where he before used all his time to help Gaius out, he now used his rounds in the lower town as a cover to scan the crowds for anything out of place; sometimes he was accompanied by Miley, but most times he had no idea what the knight was doing and was searching alone. None of them knew what Myror looked like, and if they didn't even know his face, how great were the chances of them stopping him?

Gaius had tried to find out if the assassin used poison, but if he did they weren't any of the common ones, as he couldn't find anything in his books. The wounds were always fatal and nothing else pointed towards poison, but Gaius was not one to make such a mistake- he had too much experience for something like that… but everyone could still be wrong once in a while, and he had said that it wouldn't be any poison found in his books.

"Maybe he is using a magical poison. Is that possible?" Merlin asked and turned to the knight beside him. He was frowning a little and looking across the street.

"Maybe." Miley said, but kept his gaze on the other side, his gaze slightly unfocused, and Merlin wasn't sure he had even heard the question. The knight didn't say much as soon as the topic landed on magic; even less than he did with anything else, and that was not much to begin with.

"I can't get it out of my head …" Miley's frown deepened and he was lost to the world once more. Merlin tried to see what the knight was watching, but could see nothing out of place. A young woman sat outside and was plucking the feathers of a dead hen and an old dog was sleeping in a sunray.

"What?"

"What do you mean?" The knight seemed sincere in his question. He had probably spoken his thoughts out loud without noticing. Merlin knew exactly how that felt. It had come to more than one embarrassment over the years.

"What can't you get out of your head?"

The knight looked at Merlin again. His frown would be permanent if he didn't drop it soon. Merlin was afraid he wouldn't answer at all, but a few steps later the knight relented.

"That we are doing this wrong. That all this doesn't matter and we are being distracted while the answers are right in front of our noses." Miley shook his head and took his hands up to grip his hair. "But what ...?"

"The knight let his hands fall again as his eyes grew wide. "The banquet! He's going to kill the prince at the banquet held in honour of the Lady Morgana's twenty forth summer."

Gaius had talked to Merlin about that banquet, as they were both going now that Merlin was officially Gaius' apprentice. Everyone of importance would be there. The royal family, the lords and ladies of the court, some of the knights and minor landowners who hoped to gain a favour or lay in a good word in for their sons.

Gwen would be there too. She and Merlin had met a few times when he was on his rounds, as she lived in the lower town and took some of the same roads to and from the castle. They hadn't been as embarrassing as the first time, and when Gwen had found out that he held nothing against her blabbering and he'd realized she didn't blame him for being a little clumsy at times, they had found themselves forming something like a friendship, even though Merlin knew he probably shouldn't. He may be able to use the excuse of blending in to everyone else, but he couldn't lie to himself; he was lonely. He missed his friend William back in Ealdor, and his friendship with Gwen made him forget this a little.

And now they were all in danger because of an assassin coming for the prince.

Why were these things always happening to him?

~o~o~o~

When the day of the banquet arrived, they hadn't come any closer at all. They still didn't know how the assassin looked or how he would get into the feast, and though Miley said he knew more than one possible way he wasn't enlightening Merlin on his planning other than to be aware and not to get lost in thought.

Which, of course, only made him think more; luckily it wasn't evening yet, but he nearly let the potion he was working on boil over.

"Merlin!" Merlin hurried to take the copper bowl from the fire. "Sorry," he apologized to the physician and tried to concentrate on pouring the contents over into a glass vial, and he held it up to the light to check the colour.

Gaius sighed. He was just as stressed, Merlin knew; no less than four servants had come in during the morning asking for perfumes. Gaius had grumbled at it and claimed he didn't even have something like that, he was a physician; he did  _not_  make perfumes, even if some herbalists chose to.

"Where's the tansy and yarrow?"

Merlin pointed to the top of the bookshelves where the yellow and white-flowered plants had somehow ended. Gaius grumbled again and began climbing the small steps to the top. When he came down again he laid the plants at the table. Merlin looked at him, a question in his eyes.

"Why don't we take a break? I have something for you." Gaius turned to a half hidden trunk that probably hadn't been opened in years. Merlin looked on worriedly as the physician tossed a few empty grain sacks out of the way and removed a stack of books from the trunk. "When I was your age, I was the apprentice to a very old hermit. He was a very … wise man." He opened the lid and leaned down, beginning to riffle with something. "He gave me this -" Gaius straightened and showed Merlin some old green fabric, "and now I think you should have it."

"What is it?" Merlin stepped closer and tried to get a better look; it looked like some kind of cape.

"It's a cloak and it will keep you warm when you're gathering herbs in the winter."

"But the herbs will be covered in snow then?"

"Exactly," Gaius agreed and raised his eyebrow until Merlin stepped closer and took the cloak with a thank you.

Merlin switched his brown jacket for the cloak and had to admit that, even if the smell reminded him of mouldy leaves and dust, the cloak was warm; he had no doubt that it would keep the wind from freezing him.

The feast turned out to be rather boring, but he could at least add the route to the council chambers, where the feast was held, to his map.

As Gaius apprentice, and not an actually member of the court, Merlin had to stand at the side while the others talked and ate and the King's speech for his ward had been  _very_  drawn out. He should have eaten something before he went to the banquet, he realized now, a little too late. The only good side of it was his good vantage point, and that probably should have counted more than a rumbling stomach.

The first hour had already passed and there had been no sign of Myror; Merlin was bored and his feet and back were beginning to hurt. He ran a hand through his hair and rocked a little on the balls of his feet to keep himself awake.

He had seen Gwen serving by the head table at the other side of the room and, to his surprise, had spotted Miley behind the royals clad in chainmail and a helmet. The knight had nodded subtly when Merlin caught his eyes. Merlin wondered when Miley had gotten a job as guard and how he was at the feast – as only men who had served for years were even allowed patrolling the castle, let alone standing guard at such an important event.

Merlin swept the crowd again, hoping to pick something telling between the many nobles and servants. He looked for any hidden knives or other small weapons. He checked the balcony but it was empty, and the windows were made of coloured glass- not a possibility if you wanted to keep an eye on your target. He had to come here - if they weren't totally wrong, and Myror wouldn't strike tonight at all. Maybe he was waiting for everyone to stumble drunk into bed; an unconscious man was unable to fight back.

Maybe he should tell Miley? But he couldn't indicate that he knew the knight in any way - just looking at him too often could give them away to anyone looking for them, like a sought after assassin.

He groaned softly, shifting his position a little bit to get a better view of the other side of the long table - that's when he saw it; a little flash of light, easily mistaken as a reflection from some jewellery, but Merlin had spotted the arrowhead. He tried to keep the person in his line of sight before he disappeared again.

Even as he moved across the floor he knew he would be too late; the crowd of servants and the few other people standing around were hindering in reaching the high table in time.

He sent a look behind him and reassured himself that Gaius was still deep in conversation with the court genealogist and Librarian, Lord Geoffrey of Monmouth, a man as covered in dust and dry as his books whilst trying to see where Miley was in all this. Not where he had been, at least. Merlin hoped that was a good thing.

A servant sent him a dark glare when he squeezed between he and a lord and the food ended up on the ground, but Merlin wasn't paying attention - because that was the same moment when he spotted the assassin leaning against a pillar a few feet away. Myror was dressed as a servant, but his clothing and dark skin helped him to fall perfectly into the shadows, unobtrusive and unsuspicious. The assassin was searching too, and Merlin quickly looked away when the man's gaze ran over his corner of the room.

Myror had a silver plate in his hand, Merlin noted, which was strange as it limited his ability to move, unless –

Merlin slowly moved closer and circled around until he could see the platter fully. The thing was from the royal kitchen, nothing special, but Merlin could see the little arrowhead sticking out; he was hiding a small crossbow under it.

The warlock gritted his teeth and swept his gaze around. The assassin had the weapon pointed at the prince and if he didn't do anything fast the man would be dead very soon. The only problem was that there was no way to do that without drawing attention to himself.

The assassin was moving again, this time towards one of the servants' entrances, though he still had the royals in his direct line of sight. He would be gone as soon as the arrow had hit his mark. Merlin followed and spotted Miley on the way. The knight had caught on and was on the other side of the assassin, but on the wrong side of table.

Merlin acted quickly, grabbing a full jug of wine and passing in front of Myror, obstructing his view. It was only a moment of distraction, but it gave Miley the time to move too and Merlin was now on the right side of the assassin to get in the way for whatever he was doing. How they were going to stop him was still a question, though.

When the moment came he didn't have to do any thinking either way. Myror fired his crossbow, but the arrow was sent towards the ceiling as a sword pierced through his heart. People screamed in shock as the knights and guards' drew their weapons. Myror opened his mouth and choked, crossbow and silver-platter clattering to the ground. He choked again, then suddenly drew a knife from his sleeve and threw it at the prince - before following his weapon to the ground. Dead.

The blade soared through the air and the only thing Merlin could do was react.

The magic flowed though him; rivers of golden light mixed with his blood and lightened his eyes up like two glowing gemstones. The whole world slowed down around him as time nearly stopped. The servant beside him stopped mid-step, and a hush fell over the room as if someone had stolen all sounds. His heartbeat echoed in the silence; his blood sounded like a river was running through him and never had he felt so alive as in that single moment and he was the only one to even notice it. He ran forwards even though his legs could have sunken into the stone-floor with how hard it was to move. He was drowning in the power; it was slowly squeezing the air out of him as hard as his grip on time.

His grip on it slipped and he gasped for air, then he stumbled and fell.

Time returned to normal.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meanings:
> 
> Jolenta: Violet


	9. Lessons for the blind people

**Chapter 8 – Lessons for the Blind People**

There was one moment of blessed silence. Then the trance-like state was shattered like glass with a muffled thud. Sound returned along with chaos. People were running and stumbling over each other while they shouted and looked for more assassins that may jump out of the shadows.

Not one of them looked at the guard kneeling down to the body; they were too worried about their own lives. The guard patted the man down and at last pulled a sealed note from the assassin's left boot, transferred it to his own inner pocket, and disappeared back into the crowd.

The elderly physician pressed a wrinkled hand down on his assistant's shoulder. His hand didn't shake during the slow process of pulling the knife out, and he didn't stop once as he took the offered pieces of clothing from a wide-eyed maid and fastened the makeshift bandages. After he had guided two soldiers to lift the young to his quarters to lay him out on a bed then finally saw the puddle of blood where his assistant had fallen did he slack a little against Guinevere, who laid a comforting hand on the older man's back.

The crowd was slowly thinning as the lords and ladies hurried to the relative safety of their locked chambers. The knights, too, had mostly disappeared; off to organize a search for other intruders; only the royal family and a few knights on guard had stayed behind.

The King finished speaking with Arthur and Sir Leon about leading the search. They both bowed and disappeared out the door, though the Prince cast a fleeting glance at the maid and physician before rounding the corner; the King moved towards the pair promptly resulting in Guinevere releasing her firm grip on Gaius' arm. She curtsied and held her gaze at ground level as the King drew up beside Gaius. "Gaius." He nodded at the physician.

Gaius bowed and replied, "my lord." His voice was calm but for a nearly unnoticeable tremble.

The King's face was a calm mask of indifference even if his tone was a little softer while speaking to the older man, who was the closest thing to a friend a man like the King could ever have; a trusted confidant.

"I understand that the man who saved my son's life is your new assistant?" Gaius nodded in confirmation. "What he did was more than what is expected. Such acts must be rewarded. Tell him I will see him when he wakes."

Gaius looked slightly surprised but gave a small bow. "Of course, my lord. Now, excuse me; I have a patient to look after," he said, and walked out of the hall with Guinevere at his heels.

~o~o~o~

Merlin woke with a groan. His shoulder and head throbbed in pain while the rest of his body was one big ache. He groaned again and rubbed his temples. He felt like he had been run over by a horse. He tried to sit up, but gave up halfway and flopped back down on the mattress. Scratch that; he felt like he had been run over by a dozen horses.

"Here, let me help you." An arm grabbed his shoulder and guided him up into a sitting position. He blinked his eyes open just as another blanket was thrown around his shoulders before he even realized that he was trembling. He held the blanket close to him and followed Gaius' movements as he grabbed a bottle and came back to the bed. It was only then Merlin realized that he lay on the patients' bed in the main chamber and not in his own room. He rubbed his head again as the events came rushing back. No wonder his shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat.

"Here," Gaius said and handed him the potion, "for the pain."

Merlin nodded and was rewarded with another stab of pain before he gulped the vile, gruel-like substance down with a grimace.

"It will take a little while for it to work properly."

"Are you sure that it won't kill me instead?" Merlin asked in a half-hearted attempt at a joke. Gaius took the empty bottle with a small smile.

"Quite sure," he said and sat the bottle back on the table.

He returned with several salves and bandages. "Let's get yours changed. We will not want the wound to get infected now will we?" Merlin shook his head and removed his blanket so Gaius could discard the old bloodied bandages. He looked on as the old physician worked with careful, practiced hands and was reminded of his mother when she had sometimes treated the other villagers. "He wondered if all these small reprimands and the true care he could see in the older man's eyes was how it would feel to have a father, and was immediately saddened that it couldn't last. Wouldn't last. Just because some higher ups had chosen to place him in the middle of a struggle of power and he was now stuck with the job of helping them bringing down the kingdom.

He wondered if someone had chosen differently; if his father hadn't left them before he was born, if they had moved to another kingdom than Essetir; would anything have prevented all this from happening? As he thought this he realised something else, too; he would never have seen Camelot then, though dangerous for people like him still very beautiful. Neither would have met Gwen, who had truly become his friend, or Gaius, or even Miley. Merlin wasn't sure where exactly Miley stood in all this, but had a suspicion that he hated the war just as much as Merlin did.

Gaius finished and Merlin smiled in thanks, returning the blanket to its former place on his shoulders.

"Merlin," Gaius said; his voice had taken a more serious edge.

Merlin reached over grabbed a mug of water, downing it gratefully before replying, "Yes?"

"What you did back at the feast. You saved Prince Arthur's life."

Merlin nodded, a little unsure where Gaius was headed. Saving the Prince had been the whole idea after all and he had not thought further than that.

"The King told me to send word as soon as you woke. Do you know what that entails?"

Merlin's eyes went wide in shock; he had performed magic in the middle of the feast. What had he been thinking? Had the King seen? Maybe it would have been better that the knife had killed him if this just meant he would burn instead. How stupid could he be? His eyes flew to the window; too high up to be a safe way to escape.

Maybe he could still reach the gates if he snuck past the guards in the hallway- or would they already be on alert, and ring the warning bells any second?

He gasped for breath and was just about to jump out of his bed, injuries forgotten, when a firm hand held him down by the shoulder and forced him to focus on the white framed face of the elderly physician. Gaius' mouth was moving, but he could not hear anything; it felt like he was underwater and he could not get enough air into his lungs. Gaius shook his shoulder lightly and was still speaking, stroking Merlin's back in calming circles. There was only patient warmth in his gaze, no anger or fear, and Merlin slowly calmed down when it seemed no one was going to come crashing through the door quite yet.

"Merlin? Merlin, calm down."

He tried to take a deeper breath but ended up nearly choking and coughed. Gaius patted his back until he finished. The physician gave him a worried look and Merlin supposed it was understandable- having a panic attack because the King was coming was on the rather extreme side of normal behaviour. Well, 'normal people' didn't have to worry about getting burned for breathing. Or treason.

Gaius patted his back a last time, and continued with relying the King's message when he saw that Merlin had calmed down. "The King will just like to thank you for saving his son's life," he said with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Oh," said Merlin, now sheepish over his behaviour. This city truly made him more paranoid than was healthy.

"Yes, and he can be here any minute so I would advise you to compose yourself and act respectful; no reason to act foolish just because you're in the King's good graces for the moment." The last part was said in a tone that indicated that the physician had not meant it as a joke, and Merlin sent him a tired glare just as the door was opened, the King walking in.

"Gaius." Uther greeted the physician with a nod.

"My lord," Gaius nodded to the King as he walked past him. He gave Merlin one last look before he closed the door, leaving Merlin alone with the King of Camelot.

Merlin swallowed and looked down at his lap. He could hear the King move around before sitting down on a stool nearby. For a short while this was the only sound, as Merlin was frozen to the spot, clutching his blanket. He was afraid that if he somehow moved the wrong way the King would see right through him and call the guards. Like he could sniff out magic-users like a bloodhound hunting deer. That was actually one of the rumours he had heard as a child in Ealdor, and even if he didn't believe them anymore, you could never be too careful, in his opinion.

"Merlin, was it?" the King asked. Merlin startled and dropped the edge of the blanket. The warlock lifted his eyes to meet those of the King. "Yes, sire," he answered in a near whisper. He cleared his throat in embarrassment and his cheeks burned. Uther Pendragon was here to thank him, not execute him, and now he was behaving like the fool Gaius accused him of being.

The King's eyes were dark and cut right through him, sizing him up.

"You saved my boy's life, Merlin. You went beyond the duty of a citizen and such a deed deserves a reward," Uther said. He was calm and composed, his carefully indifferent face containing just the right amount of boredom, though gratitude and authority were also present. It all went along well with his straight stance. It was all very impressive and Merlin quickly gazed slightly to the side, still not truly convinced the King couldn't read his thoughts.

"It's really not necessary …"

"Nonsense. Had you been of noble birth, this would have earned you knighthood," Uther said making it clear that it wasn't up for discussion. "The least I could give you is a job in the royal household, but as you already possess such station, a must give you something of equal worth." The King paused. "A horse from the royal stables will do. You will find no better breed in the kingdom. Sir Leon will show you your mount when you're healed enough to walk."

With that matter settled, the King rose to his feet once more and walked to the door. Uther caught his gaze when Merlin looked up. "Camelot needs loyal subjects. Without, the kingdom will crumble, the walls will fall and the people will be a feast for the crows."

With those words, Uther Pendragon strode from the chambers, and Merlin was once again left with a lump in his throat and a slight tremble that had nothing to do with his injury.

~o~o~o~

Arthur Pendragon let his shoulder droop a little when he closed the door behind him. The search for other intruders had been uneventful and he had sent Sir Leon home when he had made sure that the guard was doubled for the night.

He ran a hand through his hair and slumped down onto his goose feathered bed. It had been too eventful a night for his taste. It was not unusual for an assassin to attack the royal families, and by far it wasn't the first time he had been the target, but something didn't sit right with him. The last few months had been more or less quiet, apart from a few bandits and druids roaming the forest, but even they had kept to the borders.

Camelot was a strong and resourceful kingdom and not many kings would dare to declare war against their knights, but usually there would be some border fights or disagreement about trade routes. These last months had been too quiet and now this. It felt wrong; too easy. The assassin had roamed the kingdom for days before he had targeted them. He had killed several guards and then made this nearly unprofessional attempt on killing him, when he had showed he was quite capable of just sneaking in and shooting an arrow into their chests while they slept.

He looked to his desk. His newest servant, George, had arranged the documents in fine piles, his inkbottle placed nicely on the side next to the eagle feather. He would have to look them over them tomorrow, he supposed; right now his whole body felt too heavy and his mind a little clouded. He probably shouldn't have had that much wine to drink before spending the rest of the night running around after imaginary enemies- not that he could have foreseen that.

His thoughts wandered back to the boy who saved his life as he slipped out of his clothes. He had no idea about his motivation for leaping in front of the knife. He was either extremely brave or extremely stupid, but Arthur couldn't be anything than grateful. It probably wouldn't hurt anyone to see if he would be okay; just to make sure that Gaius didn't have to look for a new assistant so soon, of course.

He groaned a little as the head ache took pain to a new level until he felt nauseous. He really needed some good sleep after today. His last thoughts were a prayer that George would let him sleep in before he collapsed.


	10. The Grimoire

**Chapter 9 – The Grimoire**

Merlin woke up the next morning feeling only slightly better. He quickly drowned the painkiller Gaius had prepared for him before rearranging his pillow so he could sit up without too many problems. As his pain in his shoulder dulled, he slowly began to realise that he had nothing to do the whole day. Gaius had confined him to his bed for at least two more days and he would not return to his duties before he was out of danger of tearing the stitches.

He glanced around and caught sight of the tomb about herbs he still hadn't finished. He was sure he would not get a better chance. He checked that no one could see him out of habit, Gaius would be out on his rounds now and no one else had any reason to come in this early. His eyes flashed gold and the book soared towards him and hit him right in the chest.

"Umpf," he gasped. That would leave another bruise tomorrow; as if he needed any more at the moment.

He had just turned to the right page when the door was slammed open and he jumped in surprise. He scowled at Gaius as the other man stepped inside, mostly in irritation by his own reaction, but the physician didn't notice his assistant's glare; he had only eyes for the servant trailing behind him.

Gaius walked to his shelves and stuffed several new potions into his medicine bag. "You-" he beckoned the servant over and handed him the bag "-take this and hurry back." The servant obeyed and ran out of the door. Merlin had seen the panic in the young boy's eyes.

"What's going on?" He asked Gaius as the physician began to follow the servant. Gaius shot him a look filled with worry, and it was in that moment Merlin could feel his own panic begin to rise too; he had never seen Gaius be anything other than calm and collected when dealing with patient. This had to be very bad.

"Prince Arthur has been poisoned."

Very bad, indeed.

~o~o~o~

The King was pacing back and forth. The curtains where drawn and the room was lit with several flickering candles competing with the roaring flames in the fireplace. The crackling of the burning wood and the soft squeaking of leather boots filled the room as the silence threatened to strangle the people inside.

"Any news?" The King's voice was soft. Uther's grey eyes seemed nearly dead, and his body was sunken slightly into itself, for once showing all his years and then some weighing his shoulders down. I this moment he was just a father to a dying child, neither king nor warrior. The private gathering didn't comment as they all understood, and shared, his sorrow.

"I'm afraid not, my lord. I don't recognize the poison. Until I find something in my books, I can only try to keep his fever down and make sure he doesn't hurt himself," Gaius said, his voice just as soft as the King's while keeping a wet cloth on the prince's feverish brow. Though they all thought it, no one said out loud that when and if Gaius even had the time to find a cure, it might already be too late.

Arthur's hair was wet with sweat, but his body was shaking under the heavy pile of blankets. On the small table beside the bed stood several painkillers and other potions which all seemed to be useless to the unconscious prince.

Gaius dipped the cloth back into the bucket filled with cold water, just as the prince began to twitch and trash around. "Keep him still," Gaius ordered the two knights who had stood ready by the bed for this very purpose.

A bottle clattered as it toppled over and shattered on the stone floor, as Gaius reached for another and tried to get his patient to swallow. He finally managed it when Sir Leon let go of Arthur's arms and pried the Prince's jaw open instead.

The King watched with a grimace equally worried and angry. He waited until Gaius stepped back and let the knight take his place before asking, "Have you any idea who did this?"

"I have only seen this poison once before …" Gaius began.

"So you know who did it!?"

"That is what I am afraid of. The poison resembles the one the guards were given."

The King glared and snapped, "You said you weren't sure they had been poisoned!"

Gaius shook his head in agreement and turned back to the Prince. "Not before now."

The prince convulsions slowly stilled and Sir Cadmon let go of the prince's legs and moved slowly around the sleeping form of the lady Morgana, who had fallen asleep a few hours earlier. Her maid slept beside her, tired from running around after water and bottles of medicine the whole day and a good part of the night. There was no reason to rise them; nothing had changed and nothing more could be done either.

"There has to be something you can do, Gaius, something you haven't tried yet. I will do anything …" The King had started pacing again after the prince had fallen asleep once more.

"There is not. I'm sorry, my lord, but there is nothing to find in my books about this poison. I'm afraid it is only a matter of time …"

"You don't understand Gaius –" The King turned around to glare at the white-haired elder, the knights took a few respectful steps back towards the door, aware that the conversation at hand was private. "I want you to try  _everything_  in your power to cure him!"

Gaius eyes widened, and his voice was only just above whispering when he replied, "My lord! You can't possibly be suggesting… I swore an oath years ago –"

"I know-"

The King paced towards one of the windows and tucked the curtain away to reveal the last colours of sunset.

"But my son is more important than any oath."

~o~o~o~

Gaius had been gone the whole day and Merlin had still not gotten any good news. Gwen had been by a few times to gather ingredients or clean rags for Gaius and once to bring him some food so 'he didn't starve while he was recovering' as she had said and then blushed in embarrassment for speaking so directly to him.

He had managed to ask her once about the prince's condition. He knew that Uther would try to keep the details close to avoid seeming weak to the other kingdoms, but she had given in and told him, although he had to admit it probably had more to do with him being Gaius' assistant and less with his charms.

She only told him a few vague details though; that Prince Arthur had a high fever and was now suffering regular convulsions, but Merlin understood it was because of the lack of more progess, not mistrust, and just thanked her with a smile.

He supposed he should have tried to contact Miley right then and there, except he didn't know how and had no intention of helping King Cenred and the assassin more than absolutely necessary.

Afterward, he had had nothing more to do other than read while he waited for Gaius to return. This resulted in him finally finishing the book just after lunch. He knew he should have slept then; it would help him heal, but he had not felt tired at all and he had no desire of exposing himself to any of Gaius' sleeping draughts and the head arch that would follow in the morning.

Instead, he had ended up staring into nothingness the rest of the day, with only his own thoughts as entertainment. Something, he quickly realized, was more depressing than helpful as his thoughts always tended to return to the whole reason for him being in Camelot in the first place.

It also bothered him that Gaius hadn't arrived back yet.

Gaius was the most experienced healer in the kingdom, hence why he was the court physician, and if he hadn't found out which poison had been used yet, then the chances for saving the Prince by finding the antidote were slim to none. He had learned from the assassin that most poisons were slow-working or only dangerous when ingested in larger amounts, sometimes over a longer time period. The fact that this wasn't the case worried him; could he have saved the Prince from the knife only for it to end up having been for nothing?

He fumbled a little around with the edge of the blanket. All this waiting was really getting to him.

Merlin let his gaze stray around the room. He couldn't see much; night had slowly crept into the room and made it difficult to distinguish any details as it left the room in thousands of shadows in different tones of dark grey and brown. His eyes landed on the bookshelves. Gaius had been back once just after he had seen to the Prince for the first time to gather some of the books. It was obvious by the lack of process that they hadn't helped; but there had to be hundreds of books. One of them  _had_  to have the answer right?

He shifted a little and had to bite his lip as the pain in his shoulder flared up. No walking quite yet it seemed, but he may be able to call the books to him with magic like with the herb-book. The only problem was that he didn't know which book he should call yet. He frowned in thought. He would have to concentrate more for this.

Slowly, he closed his eyes and reached out with a tendril of magic. He had never had any reason to use this kind of magic before; in Ealdor it had been mostly instinctual and 'in the moment' kind of things. Using magic like this was like finding out you could move your arm in a whole different way.

The tendril reached the shelves and he could see it in his mind's eye as it ran over the books like a stream of flowing water. Warm and curious; a living, breathing thing all on its own. Absolutely wonderful. For a few minutes this warm feeling of life filled him as the magic flowed through him.

Merlin kept his eyes closed until he felt the heavy weight of books on his legs, then he quickly looked through them so he could start sorting them into different piles on the floor between the bed and Gaius' workbench.

He carefully dusted the covers off before picking one out to start to flip through its pages. It quickly became clear that the first few books didn't have anything useful in them; some of the poisons described fit with the symptoms, but they had nothing on a possible cure or even a real cause.

Feeling more frustrated for every useless book he kept running a hand though his already messy bed-hair. He was so focused on flipping and skimming pages that he nearly missed the old leather bound tomb as it landed halfway under the bed, when he picked the next book. He stopped, frowned and picked it up.

The book looked older than most of the other books, but well cared for as seen on the rich red-brown cover and brass carvings still shining despite their obvious age. The book lacked a title and no author had signed the book. This could either be proof of its old age or, Merlin suspected, it could be that someone wanted to keep the book from appearing important so it didn't catch the attention of curious new readers. Which in Merlin's case resulted in the complete opposite reaction.

He ran his hand softly across the spine of the book before carefully flipping the first page.

First it appeared to be completely blank, then he gasped as words began to appear in black ink.

**_Grimoire_ **

**_Regor De Magicum Flora et Fauna ad Albion et Extramuranum_ **

_(A Guide to the Magical Flora and Fauna of Albion and Beyond)*_

Merlin's eyes continued to widen as he quickly turned the next few pages; the book was filled with colourful drawings of symbols and beasts of any imaginable – and unimaginable – kind. Spells were written in dark golden ink in words he had never seen before which had to be in the language of the Old Religion. Around the drawings and spells were columns of descriptions written in Latin and there were even a few places where there had been scribbled a note a two by the book's former owners.

Yet, even the great wonders which filled the book could not compare to his feeling of shock by the revelation that Gaius owned a book of magic.

The old physician had not only broken the law by committing treason, this also meant he at least  _had been_  partly interested in, or even studied, magic. Merlin had come to like Gaius, had even gotten a feeling of a second home when living in their small quarters, but he had always been careful, both because of his mission and because of the older man's obvious closeness to the King of Camelot.

Merlin had not once suspected that Gaius could share a different view on magic than the rest of Camelot. Could it be that there was more to the whole story than he had seen at first? Did Uther know about Gaius? This would make the King even worse than Merlin had thought him to be; ruthless and unfair: yes, a murderer: without doubt, but this would make Uther a hypocrite too.  _And Gaius as well,_ his mind added as an afterthought.

Somehow, Merlin had not a very hard time suspecting this to be the truth. At least concerning Uther; he still hoped that Gaius wasn't like that. He couldn't be like that!

He supposed it might be a good question to ask Miley when he did see him again. That is, if the knight decided to tell the truth; the last few conversations they'd led had not felt completely straightforward in its meaning.

A few pages into the book later, he decided to not test his luck any further by keeping the book out in the open and hid it under the bed. Not a very creative hiding place, but at this moment it was the best he could do until he was able to wander around again. He sent the other books back to their original places on the shelves and lay back on the bed.

He was nearly certain that if there was a cure for whatever poison the Prince had ingested it was a big possibility that the spell to cure him could be found in the Grimoire. He just hoped that Gaius wouldn't get the same idea and try to find it too; that would only lead to a very awkward and dangerous discussion.

~o~o~o~

Merlin waited in bed the whole evening and the first part of the night. Sometimes he would manage to catch some sleep; mostly he just continued to stare at the ceiling, as the sounds of voices outside his chambers had slowly died down and the castle was covered by a dark veil embroidered with blinking stars. As Gaius hadn't come back, not even to eat, Merlin presumed he stayed by the Prince to keep watch. He just hoped it wouldn't hinder his plan.

He waited another hour to be on the safe side and then slowly sat up. He stopped to take a few deep breaths until the pain became manageable again and moved his legs until he could feel the floor under his bare feet, all the while careful to keep his arm close to the chest so he didn't jar it. He pulled on his boots and used his healthy arm to take his jacket, and then proceeded to dig the book out from beneath the bed with his foot so he could magic it up into his hands. He could see the irony in the fact that he hadn't done this much magic since he was old enough to understanding the danger, and now he was practicing it at the most dangerous place of all.

Without really thinking about it, he wrapped an old rag around the book before tiptoeing out into the empty hallway.

The corridors seemed longer and narrower at night than they had when they were filled with people and light. He tried to step lightly, only partly because of the risk of getting caught. The silence was breathing him down the neck, making him shiver though the night was unusually warm for the season.

He tried to remember where Gaius had gone the last time due to the general idea he had gotten from the different castle residents he had met; that the royal chambers were in the same wing as the council chamber; only the best for someone of royal blood and all that.

Even while trying his best, he still ended up wandering around for more than half an hour, backtracking several times and hiding in alcoves more than once when a patrol came too close. He finally found the right corridor if the guards before the door was any indication. He bit his lip in thought. He probably should have foreseen that it wouldn't be that easy, but now it was too late for second thoughts and witty backup plans.

Relying on his magic once again, he tried to cause a distraction by slamming one of the other doors in the corridor. Unfortunately, it backfired when instead of the investigating the slamming door the guards became alert and would have caught him if he hadn't jumped through the closest available door, which was thankfully not locked.

He pressed himself hard against the closed door, as he could hear the guard's heavy step and clicking armour as he came to a stop.

Merlin held his breath and prayed to everyone who would listen for the guard to walk back and for once his luck was with him, as the guard's muted call of, "Nothing here!" Could be heard through the door.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he had held while he sagged against the door. He winced a little when his arm protested against being forgotten. Ignoring it for now, he looked around in the chamber for the first time, and like he hadn't gotten enough excitement for the night already, nearly yelped when he registered the large red feather beddings which couldn't completely cover the form of the sleeping figure; the Prince's golden locks shimmered slightly in the moonlight.

Merlin could have cursed then if it wouldn't make the situation worse; instead he pulled himself together and got on with his plan. He noted the lack of Gaius with surprise; the physician would normally call a guard if he needed anything.

He hurried to a table and after clearing a little space between the empty bottles and dirty rags found the part in the book that covered magical deceases and cures. He flipped around a bit, angry at himself for not doing this back in relatively safeness of the physician quarters. When he finally found an illustrated page with instructions in how to cure poisons; a new problem arose in the form of him never having practiced spells before. He had no idea how to pronounce the words.

Having no other choice but to try, he whispered the foreign words a few times before placing his hands above the Prince's head and heart like it was shown by the book's drawing.

"Afurme pes feorbold. One lybba aforce!" He whispered the command as strongly as he dared. His magic didn't even stir. He shook his head to clear it. He tried again with more force. Still nothing.

The one time he needed the help from another sorcerer no one was there. He clenched his hands into fists and slowly released them again, gathering his concentration. Gaius could be back any minute now!

He mumbled the spell in any way he could think of; changed the letters if he wasn't sure how to pronounce them, until he finally felt his magic rise up to the surface and he hissed the command in the old language.

" _Áfeorme þes feorhbold. Unlybba áfeorse!_ "

He felt the magic leave him and the Prince took a deep, gasping breath as some of his paleness left him. Merlin exhaled as he sat back on his heels and wiped some sweat of his brow. He couldn't stop smiling widely; not only had he saved Prince Arthur's life, again; he had also succeeded in performing his first spell.

It was only when he got back he came to think about whose chambers the guards had actually guarded if not the Prince's.

~o~o~o~

The next day the castle could celebrate the Prince's remarkable recovery. The King personally thanked the physician in the private of his chambers, even when Gaius said there was nothing to thank him for as he had done nothing. The King just nodded and agreed with the statement, though for different reasons.

Gaius could only shake his head. Miracles where known to happen in Camelot, even if he had his own suspicions to the origin of this one.

Merlin laid back and managed to enjoy taking a day off. At least he did after Gwen had visited and had brightened the room with her smile when she told him the news of the Prince walking around again like nothing had happened.

On the other side of the castle the gates opened for a lone rider, who the guards recognised as one of their own. Miley brought his horse back to the stables and went looking for the injured warlock.

Because destiny never really let its players rest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I had to translate it into Latin word for word. If anyone can (and want to) correct it, please send a PM.
> 
> ** The poison described is from the plant Menispermum Canadense (Moonseed). The two species grow in Canada and Asia. The symptoms of poisoning from these plants are convulsions and death – no other symptoms are known yet as the poison is rather rare.
> 
> Words:
> 
> Cadmon: Wise warrior
> 
> Áfeorme þes feorhbold. Unlybba áfeorse: Cleanse thoroughly this body. Poison caused by witchcraft be gone!


	11. The prophet

**Chapter 10 – The Prophet**

Miley ran a hand through his hair as he walked, making it stand up in every possible direction; a trait which seemed to follow his family if he remembered his father correctly. He clenched his teeth and focused on the project at hand; it was of no use to let his thoughts wander to things in the past which he could do nothing about in the present.

He clutched the little piece of paper currently lying folded in his pocket. He would have to visit the messenger soon, but he wanted to do this task first.

Miley navigated through the crowded marketplace while keeping his worry for the next months from showing. Controlling his facial expression was a skill he had mastered a long time ago; a skill you needed all the time when working for the King. The members of Cenred's court might be few, but those who were left, had held their power by being observant and because of their willingness to betray their neighbours to the King the moment they saw their chance. In a place like that, showing what you really thought was often a direct way to lose your title or worse, more so when your thoughts didn't follow the court's.

He had never enjoyed talking to the King. Cenred may not be as dangerous as Eadric, but the King was cruel and greedy and the news Miley had brought had only convinced him to move his plans forward. Some change was needed in Camelot, you would have to be blind  _not_ to see it, but that didn't mean letting Cenred replace Uther on the throne would achieve this. For all the loyalty a knight should have to his king; Miley was not a knight born of faith, but a man of need.

The boy, Merlin, complicated everything even more. Eadric may have been quiet in their first weeks in Camelot, but Miley would never be as naïve as to think that wouldn't change. The assassin would bit his time until he saw his chance to strike, this Miley didn't doubt. Reading people was one of his strength after all. His options to act; not so much, which was the reason he was no closer to pushing the events the right way than he had been when he rode through the gates of Camelot the first time.

Knocking trice on the chamber doors, he took a step back and waited. He knew the physician would be by the King for the next hour at least, but it was better to be on the safe side. As expected; no one bit him to enter and he could push the door open undisturbed and step inside.

The room was cluttered with all sorts of herbs, books and potions; however the thing that interested the knight was the still form of the young warlock, lying half across the patients' bed, where he had seemingly fallen asleep while reading a book.

Miley stepped closer to discern some of the symbols on the pages and his eyebrow disappeared under his hay coloured hair. He shook his head at the boy's careless action and walked back to the shelves to pull a few bottles down. He hid the chosen goods under his coat, before making himself comfortable on one of the benches standing by the table and waited for Merlin to wake up on his own.

It wasn't long before the warlock began to stir and cracked his eyes open to stare tiredly at the ceiling, mind still not fully cleared of sleep.

"Exhausted?" Miley asked and smirked when Merlin nearly fell out of the bed in shock. The warlock twisted his body around awkwardly to look at the knight, who just raised an eyebrow in a pose resembling Gaius. "Nightly excursions usually do that to you."

Merlin groaned and closed his eyes again. "How do you even know that?" The warlock nearly wined.

Miley just snorted at him. "There’s a reason they are called messengers, Merlin, but this is not why I have come here; I have some news for you myself."

He waited for Merlin to sit up properly and had the younger man's attention again so he could continue. "We have gotten new orders from the King; our holiday is over. Now that we have established a base inside the castle we can move on with our jobs."

Merlin furrowed his brow and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Firstly, in your case; recovering from your wound," The knight said, stood up and pushed his seat back under the table. "Let me deal with the rest for now. I just wanted to warn you about being prepared; we will begin your training as soon as you're back to health."

Miley could feel the eyes boring into his back, but he didn't linger.

"Wait, how did you even get in here!?" Merlin called out after him as he walked through the room.

Miley closed the door and sneaked through the corridors and crossed the drawbridge back out of the castle, all the while keeping a small smile on his face. He might not be able to do much against the powerful men back in Essetir, yet he promised himself then and there to do  _enough_.

~o~o~o~

Merlin gave a relived sigh when Gaius finally deemed his arm to be fully healed, although he still felt a small twinge of pain when he moved it too much. Gaius said it would still feel sore the next few days, and then reminded Merlin once again that he had come out of the whole incident very lucky. When Merlin overlooked the days confined to the bed and the new scar left on his pale skin, he supposed it was very much the truth.

Gaius patted his good arm. "Now, enough of doing nothing; you are well enough to do some light work and my stores needs restocking; so get going," Gaius said in a stern voice and handed Merlin a basked and a list with the herbs he needed.

Merlin gave his mentor a small smile and stepped out in the corridor for the first time since the banquet.

He was halfway through the lower town, when he felt a presence behind him and turned around. Miley was dressed in an ill-fitting brown tunica and trousers which made him blend into the rest of the crowd in a way his old, richer garments never could.

"Up to work again then, huh?" The knight asked. Merlin nodded, before remembering the knight's words from a few days ago and quickly corrected him.

"But Gaius said that I'm not allowed to do anything strenuous until the wound has healed completely," Merlin added quickly before Miley could assume anything else. He wasn't sure what exactly Miley meant with 'training' other than it sounded like strenuous work to him.

The knight hummed in thought, looked at the basket in Merlin's hands and asked, "Where are you going, then?"

"The woods."

"Then I will meet you there in half an hour," The knight said, turned on his heels and disappeared from sight before Merlin could form the words for any protest he may have had.

He arrived at the forest after the last jog through the few fields which surrounded the castle. The birds greeted him with their singing while he walked into the green world, kept in the safe embrace of the trees around him. Out here he didn't have to fear the eyes of the guards or the whispers of the court, in that moment he could breathe a little easier even when he deep down knew that he wasn't truly free even here.

Picking herbs was a peaceful task and Merlin took his time while he waited for the Knight of Essetir to arrive. Not all of the plants were easy to find and he could therefor focus all of his otherwise wild thoughts on the single task at hand.

A twig breaking behind him made him turn around and he found Miley standing with the now broken stick he had heard.

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings," Miley said and walked around him and continued through the forest. Merlin followed without question until he spotted the scabbard and sword hanging by the man's hip.

"I'm not well enough to fight yet!" Merlin exclaimed.

"You said so before."

Merlin frowned at the knight's answer.

"Then why do you carry a sword?"

Miley looked back at him, and his look made Merlin cringe a little, as it reminded him of Gaius when he asked what the physician called 'an unnecessary question'. Miley though chose to do what Gaius wouldn't and answered either way.

"As protection; all kind of creatures and outlaws roam these woods, it would be unwise to go in without being armed."

If possible, this only made Merlin more confused. That the woods could be dangerous was obvious, yet none of them were 'unarmed'.

"But you have magic?" Surly the knight didn't fear anyone seeing his magic out here in the middle of nowhere? And even if he did; what would prevent him from escaping them? Surly, he didn't need the sword too?

"Why lower you chances, when you can use every mean possible and be better off instead? Don't think for a second your opponent wouldn't do the same," Miley scolded lightly, yet didn't sound like the question had actually bothered him.

They continued through the forest, following a small deer-track, until they arrived at a little clearing. It was large enough to give them room to move around without trouble, but not much more, and since there were no bigger roads for miles around the chances for anyone else stumbling on them were rather slim.

The knight still scouted the area to be completely sure and Merlin used the extra time to pick a few more herbs he hadn't found before, as these craved the sunlight of the open areas and could not be found in the shadows of the trees like most of the other herbs.

Miley arrived back and sat down against an old oak at the edge of the glade and beckoned Merlin to join him. Merlin sat, a little wary of what the knight wanted from him. He fidgeted with the handle of the basket while his gaze rested on a wandering beetle by the knight's left foot.

"Stop looking at the ground all the time or you will end up getting stuck with a bent neck in a few years," The knight said and Merlin reluctantly lifted his head. Miley was twirling a blade of grass between his thumb and index finger, while keeping his eyes on Merlin.

"I thought we could use the time to remedy your lack of spellcasting skills."

"Spellcasting?"

The knight nodded. "Eadric seems to have focused on mortal combat and not magic. I meant it when I said, it would be stupid to only focus on one ability if you can get an advantage by using more; this also applies the other way around."

Miley threw the grass away, folded his arms across his chest, and gave Merlin a searching look until the younger man shifted in unease. However, Miley seemed to have found what he had been looking for. He gave a tight smile and straightened his back; once again taking the stance of a soldier.

"Well then, usually, everyone has some aspects of magic they find easier than others, and many sorcerers and sorceresses are only able to perform spells from those categories, even with years of training. As a warlock you'll probably find everything a lot easier, nevertheless, I would suggest we start somewhere easy."

Merlin wondered if he should say anything about the Grimoire, but decided against it. He would at least wait and see what Miley could teach him first. He actually felt exited; he had never had anyone who could really understand the part of him that was magical. His mother and William had tried, of course, and he was really grateful for their support, but they didn't have magic. It just wasn't the same.

"The most common kinds of spells are the ones to create fire. Like most spells they wary a lot as there's many kinds of fire from lighting a simple candle to creating a ball of flames," Miley began. The knight looked around until they landed on a stick a few feet away. He whispered a word and his eyes flashed golden as the stick flew into his hand. "Here." The knight handed it to the warlock, who sent him a look filled with awe. Merlin may have been able to move things without words since he had been born, but this was the first time he really saw anyone use such magic in front of him. All he had ever seen before was the magic the assassin sometimes used when he had been in the castle by the sea.

"Okay," Miley said, breaking Merlin's train of thought. "Now, repeat the spell after me and try to focus your magic on setting the stick on fire."

Merlin nodded his understanding.

"Bryne!" The knight said as clearly as possible and Merlin tried to repeat, but like by the healing spell nothing happened. The knight shook his head a little.

"No, not like that; the 'e' is pronounced more flatly like the 'ea' in  _heavy_  and the 'y' is wrong too. Listen closely." The knight repeated the spell and Merlin mumbled it a few times before nodding, and held the stick up at eye level with both hands.

"Bryne!" Merlin commanded and the stick burst into flames so big Merlin had to drop it before he burned his hand too.

Miley calmly waved a hand over the flames, which were now lighting the surrounding grass on fire too and said, "Wæterstréam!" Water gushed out of his hand and extinguished the fire.

The knight looked up at Merlin and said in an approving voice, "Good, but next time you need to control the fire or you'll end up burning something down. Magic is still dangerous if not mastered and wielded with care; always remember that."

Merlin nodded and the knight proceeded with teaching him a few other easy fire spells and then let him practice until he had gotten completely control over the amount of power he used for each incantation.

"What about other spells?" Merlin asked an hour later, eager to learn more, but the knight shook his head. "Not today. People will start wondering where we have gone soon enough. It will be dangerous to continue."

Merlin let his shoulders drop in defeat and followed the knight when he showed the way back towards the castle, unable to come with an argument against the true statement. Gaius would be wondering why it had taken him so long already. He kept his basket of herbs close to his chest.

When they neared the place where Merlin had gathered herbs at first before the knight had found him, Miley spoke up again. "The spells I showed you today are mostly harmless; used to light a campfire or a candle. When you've more control over your magic we will dwell deeper into spells which can be used in combat."

Merlin nearly froze and ended up setting his foot down a little harder than intended and stumbled. While sitting in the clearing, hidden from everyone else, he had nearly forgotten why he was learning spells in the first place. To be reminded felt like a blow to the head.

Miley apparently noticed as he turned towards him and said, "Look." The knight paused and frowned. "I know you don't want to be here, but … sometimes fate doesn't take you down the path you wanted to and you'll just have to follow it regardless."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked.

"I mean that you should stop feeling guilty for doing what we do and start accepting that you can't do anything against it."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "But this is not only about us; this is affecting the others too; innocent people who have done nothing wrong!" He exclaimed in surprise over the sharpness of the knight's words.

"This is war; a game of chess where you have to strategically play your pieces to achieve victory. Sometimes casualties are necessary to call checkmate."

Merlin could fell his nervousness he had felt before slowly getting burned away by his rising anger. He knew that technically it wasn't the knight's fault that he was here, but in that moment he didn't care. For months he had stored his feelings deep inside and this was just the one drop that made the dike crumble.

"You want me to just  _accept_  that we are taking over a kingdom?" Merlin yelled. "Innocent people are going to die because of us and you just want me to look away?" Merlin forced the last sentence out between his teeth.

Merlin had thought the knight had shared the feeling of disgust at their situation; had felt this sense of wrongness creeping up through him and settle like a stone in his chest.

Apparently, he had been wrong. This was a 'necessary evil' to him; a game to be won. As if peace had ever been achieved through war; was history alone not proof of this? It wouldn't be the first time Merlin had misjudged someone; the last few months didn't make much sense to him. Even while living in Ealdor he never really got the feeling of completely understanding the other villagers; like he was seeing the world differently from everyone else. Was the world really such a violent place?

Miley had been the first person, other than himself, to have magic. Though the knight had taken him to Cenred, he had been acting under orders from his king and Merlin had not blamed him, because he had thought Miley had been kind of trapped too … That Merlin might have found someone who understood.

Merlin was nearly whispering when he continued. "You want be to just accept that I could be murdering Gwen and Gaius by doing this?" He could feel his eyes burning with unshed tears, yet he didn't let them fall as he ran back to Camelot, leaving the knight staring blankly at his retreating form.

~o~o~o~

When Merlin arrived back at the physician's chambers he was ready to go to bed although it was just a little past noon. He had calmed down from his talk with Miley and he now realized how stupid he had acted. It wasn't like what Miley had said hadn’t been the truth; he had only been trying to help Merlin to not drown in guilt and accept that this was something they couldn’t change.

The problem was that he really couldn't accept that.

"Ah, there you are Merlin! Sir Leon was just looking for you …" Gaius called when the warlock walked through the door. The old man took a small step to the side and thereby revealed the knight in question. Sir Leon's eyes found Merlin's and the warlock swallowed. Had he just tried to run away from his problems only for them to catch up with him here?

Sir Leon didn't look comfortable at all as he stood before him, yet his voice was steady as he spoke. "Yes." Leon cleared his throat. "I heard you had recovered enough to work again?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Only as long as it doesn't stretch his wound!" Gaius interrupted with a stern look at them both.

"Of course," Sir Leon quickly answered and Merlin nearly smiled at the thought of a knight of Camelot being intimidated by the elderly physician. Not that he blamed him; Gaius' disapproving stare made him shiver a little in fear too.

"I am here to show you the horse."

Merlin's eyes widened as he remembered his 'talk' with the King of Camelot, he had completely forgotten it until then. "Oh! Yes, of course … I mean: yes, sir," Merlin stammered.

The knight nodded and gestured for him to follow.

Walking behind someone for the second time that day, Merlin trailed after Leon through the upper town, back the same way he had walked not minutes before. They arrived at the stables and walked down the rows of horses used by the army generals and knights, until they arrived by a slightly smaller and cleaner row which held the horses selected for the royal family. Merlin thought back at the horse he had ridden on his way here with Miley; it had been a good and strong animal, but even he, a person with no former experience, could see that the horse would never have been a match for the mares and stallions standing here.

There were more than thirty boxes in the row and most were currently occupied. Merlin wondered how three people could have use of them all and decided it must be some sign of power, as they couldn't possibly be using all the horses for riding on their own.

Sir Leon stopped by one of the last boxes which held a dark brown mare. The horse reached out when he came closer and snorted in greeting. Merlin lifted his hand to stroke her soft muzzle and stared into her intelligent eyes.

"This is Aethelfled," The knight told him. "She’s very gentle; you should have no trouble with her."

They stood a moment in silence while Merlin continued to pat the mare,  _his horse now_ , he reminded himself.

"Have you every ridden before?"

The question made Merlin stop clapping Aethelfled, until she reminded him to continue by nibbling his hair. He scratched her behind her ear. Well, he had ridden to Camelot all the way from Essetir, howbeit without any grace, resulting in a really sore backside and hurting legs. Either way; he wasn't supposed to tell that.

"No, sir."

"I thought as much," The knight said with a small smile, displaying a side of his personality Merlin was sure the serious man didn't show often. Leon looked up and down the stables, checking for other people, before stepping a little closer to the younger man.

"What happened at the feast should never have gone that way. It is our job as knights to keep the Prince safe. It wasn't your responsibility to act, but you did so regardless and for that I am grateful." The knight gripped Merlin's shoulder in a friendly way that surprised the warlock. He never had done it to get any recognition, but the knight’s gratitude warmed him. This was entirely different from the King's talk about loyalty; this man's thank you was much more personal.

"What you did cannot be repaid in gold; to help you with this would be the least I could do."

The last sentence had nearly sounded like the knight questioned the King's choice of reward, Merlin noted, as he thanked the knight.

Sir Leon nodded back and offered to escort him back, keeping himself more relaxed now. Merlin politely reclined, assuring the knight that he could find his own way back. Leon took his leave with the promise that he would seek Merlin out again when his wound was fully healed.

Merlin stayed a little more by Aethelfled. "What am I supposed to do with all this?" He asked the young mare. The horse shook her mane and nudged him to get him to stroke her again. Merlin smiled. This, at least, was someone who wouldn't disappoint him.

~o~o~o~

The corner behind the stables was not a very impressive place; it smelled of dung and was mostly occupied by a large cart for the leftover hay. Not many ventured here other than the driver or the occasional stable hand helping with the loading. Most people would never think the Prince would be found here; and that was the whole idea.

Arthur Pendragon stood clad in a slightly ill-fitting brown tunic and matching trousers and tried to look as princely as possible in his current prediction. Unlike Miley, he didn't try to fit in at all. His sword was secured by his left hip and he gripped onto it unconsciously as he waited for his knights to arrive. Who were late.  _Again_.

Finally the three knights rounded the corner and placed themselves in a half circle around the Prince. He had wanted Sir Leon to attend this unofficial meeting as well, but the knight had apparently been busy with a task for the King and had been unable to get back in time.

"I am glad you were able to come this quickly; we have much to discuss," Arthur said with a little sarcasm added to his tone. One of the knights, Sir Fane, shuffled a little sheepish; revealing that the youngest knight of the trio had been the cause of their lateness. Fane was two years younger than Arthur, having only just come of age, but the Prince had been quick to pick the man when he had revealed a sharp mind during his finally test to become a knight a few months beforehand.

"The King has given the orders to search the city of a possible spy after the events by the banquet. We are to listen around for rumours, though carefully, unless the spy becomes suspicious and disappears."

The knights' eyes hardened as they listened and the well-built knight, Sir Edgar, took a step forward. He was a master in maze-fighting and had been one of the candidates for the position of head knight when the old Sir Hadwyn had stepped down, and although Leon had been chosen over him Arthur still held a lot of admiration for the man, most of all because he treated nobles and servants with equal respect.

"Do we have any hint of who we are looking for?" Sir Edgar asked.

"No." Arthur shook his head.

"And this is why I tell you to do everything you can to remedy this. If any of you know of someone who could give us a hint, contact them, but do it discreetly." Arthur looked all his men in the eyes and let his gaze linger an extra second on the last knight, Sir Cadmon, who with nearly two decades of service was by far the most experienced of them all. Arthur knew Cadmon had several contacts in the upper – as well as the lower - town and probably further away too.

The knights nodded again in agreement.

"If no one has anything else to add, then we will meet again here in a weeks' time to discuss any development," Arthur said and dismissed them. He looked around a last time to make sure he hadn't overlooked anything, before following his men around the corner. He was greeted by the sight of Sir Leon walking towards the stables and nearly greeted his friend when he was stopped by the young man trailing behind. It was Gaius assistant, Marvin or something, Guinevere had told him. Maybe it would be a good idea to thank him for saving his life now that he was here? On the other hand; he didn't want to disturb Sir Leon in his task either … And he was sure he would get his chance another time …

Shaking his head to get back on track Arthur decided to follow another train of thought and went to the smith's old house to visit Guinevere. He knew Morgana had let her have the day off because she had felt a little ill the day before and he hoped he could check up on her.

~o~o~o~

That evening Merlin moved the Grimoire from under the patients' bed. He nearly put it under his own bed, when he hit his foot against something and crashed to the ground. He groaned as his shoulder throbbed in pain and he quickly checked to make sure that he hadn't torn the stitches, before looking around for the sinner.

Merlin quickly caught sight of one of the floorboards which had become loose and decided to take a closer look. He lifted it and found a small hole in the stone floor. The space under it was small, but would probably be enough for the book and if it wasn't; he could always try to cave it a little bigger with magic. He hid the book under the floorboard, a little sad that he hadn't learned any protection spells yet. Then his thoughts turned to Miley and the regret suddenly left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He would have to do something about it, he knew; the thought of having to apologize for not wanting war just didn't feel right. There had to be a way to get the knight on his side in this; their chances of getting out of this predicament would be greater, even if they still wouldn't be good. More like slim to none, but if he just gave up now they would already have lost.

Merlin crawled to bed soon after, too tired after a day of walking so soon after recovering. He didn't bother to do anything other than kicking his boots off and collapsing on top of the blanket.

Slowly sleep dragged him into its embrace, only for him to be forced back to awareness by someone shouting. He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes and listened. Nothing. Strange; he had been sure he had heard something. A memory from his first day in Camelot stirred, but that had been more than one voice then; and it had surly been a dream; just like this time.

He was halfway back to sleep when the shouting came again. This time he didn't bother with waiting and jumped out of bed. He barely took the time to take his boots on before he stormed out of his room. Gaius was still sleeping and Merlin didn't understand how the old man hadn't heard the voice that had practically been roaring. The physician’s hearing couldn't be that bad, right?

 _MERLIN!_  The voice roared again and Merlin clutched his head as he finally understood why the voice hadn't send the whole castle running; the voice could not be heard outside of his own mind.  _Have I gone mad?_  Merlin thought.

Could too much stress and fear make someone hear voices? He didn't hope so … and then again, if this should become a normal occurrence he should probable find out more about it.

 _What do you want?_  He asked in his mind, feeling stupid and both hoping for and against that the voice would answer.

_What I want, young warlock, is not the answer you need._

Merlin frowned and thought back,  _what is it I need then?_  Merlin wasn't sure it was a good sign that even the voices he heard in his head were slightly mad too. Who talked in riddles anyway?

The voice chuckled, it sounded dry and far older than anyone Merlin knew, including Gaius.

_You need to see and listen._

The voice disappeared and it was like his mind opened to let a new presence in, like the voice had gotten a body and he could suddenly feel it reside in the castle. No not quite.  _Under the castle_. Merlin looked down at the floor, wondering if it would be a good idea to try to listen by it, but decided that others should have no more reasons to think him mad too. Gaius was still fast asleep and the warlock tiptoed out into the corridor on his hunt for a way below the castle.

He shivered in the cold air that came down the corridors, having forgotten his jacket in his hurry to get out. More than once a soldier came close by where he walked, but they always turned down other paths and he never even had to hide.

The dungeons were much easier to find than the Prince's chambers had been as Merlin had seen the barred windows more than once while walking through the courtyard on errands for Gaius.

The soldiers playing dice before the entrance were easy to distract too. With help from one of his newly obtained fire spells he send them running to investigate a strangely burning torch long enough for him to grasp another and hurry down the stairs to the deepest of the dungeons.

Merlin went down the rows of cells, lighting up as much space inside every one of them as he could. He was glad to note that most of them were empty, only once did he find someone holding up a thin hand to protect his eyes against the firelight, though he saw some shadows move in more than one of the others. None of them seemed to emit the presence he sought, and he could feel it lead him even deeper. He went down another set of stairs until he arrived at a small platform leading into a seemingly bottomless cave.

There was no one there, but he could found the nearly familiar pulse of the presence filling the cave until it was close to overwhelming.

"Hello?" Merlin called out into the cave and it echoed back from the walls. "Where are you?"

"I am here," The presence said and Merlin took a step back in shock; because what he had assumed to just being a big a rock in the middle of the cave actually had a big winged creature on it. It uncurled from its cat-like position and looked at him with big golden eyes. A rattling sound drew Merlin's attention to its front leg for a second where a huge chain hung. He looked back into the creature's wise, old eyes.

" _A dragon!_ " Merlin whispered.

The dragon chuckled again, making the whole cave rumble. "Indeed, young warlock." It spoke. If a dragon could smile, Merlin was sure it would have. "How things can change and still stay exactly the same."

"Wait, what?"

"Much has happened that shouldn't; just as things that should, haven't come to pass."

Merlin frowned in confusion. The dragon made absolutely no sense, he told it as much.

The dragon hummed in amusement, or Merlin thought it was what it did. He wasn’t completely certain.

"You do not have to understand, you just need to know that it has already begun. The wheel of fate may have started spinning, but prophesies like this will always come to pass."

"What prophecy?" Merlin was more confused than he had ever been before and that was saying something.

The dragon looked him deeply into the eyes; searching. Merlin shifted his stance, for a moment he had the feeling of his consciousness being split in half then it was gone again. "That is for you to discover," It said and flew upwards, disappearing into a cave somewhere above the platform.

Merlin shook his head. Who would have known that dragons would be so cryptic that they were on the borderline to strange? He didn't even know they could talk! He had never met a dragon before, and if he was honest he didn't know if he should be impressed by this specimen or not.

He decided it was best to just go to bed again, instead of pondering over it while standing in the cave as he had now begun to shake from the cold.

~o~o~o~

The door closed behind the knight with a soft click, quickly drowned by the drunken crowd. The tavern was filled to the brink this evening and he didn't notice the lonely man in the corner following his every step.

The knight walked up to the counter, his hood only just covering his face and was recognised immediately by the brewer. With a nod at the man he walked behind the table and disappeared into the backroom. The movement had been a discreet one and no one other than the man in the corner noticed.

Col got up from his seat and moved to the table closest to the backroom, smiling drunkenly at the men already occupying it and asked if he could join their game of All Fours*. They laughed merrily and got him a handful of cards. It was too far away to hear anything other than the din of the room, but this was quickly remedied with a mumbled word while he turned away to fetch some coins. He placed them in the pool in the middle of the table and the game began.

He lost most of the coins after only a few rounds do to his split focus, but it didn't matter; he would have much more now that he had gotten what he came for. Col left to the other men's laughter, refusing their request of another game and ignored the taunts that followed. The cold air hit him hard when he stepped out of the heated tavern and he pulled his coat closer as he walked, the castle rising ghostly pale in front of him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * First known description of the game is from 1674, which is a little younger than the historical period. Though the myth of King Arthur is said to have happened between year 500-600, "Merlin" seems to be set in a culture closer to 1500 – though with other kinds of political and religious feuds.
> 
> Names/spells:
> 
> Col: Charcoal, dark-featured  
> Edgar: Protector of the good  
> Fane: eager  
> Aethelfled: Noble beauty  
> Hadwyn: Friend during wartime
> 
> Bryne: flame/heat  
> Wæterstréam: stream of water


	12. Interlude I

**Part two – The Path of Fate is chosen**

**Interlude I**

The grand oak doors to the throne room opened and a guard stepped out to greed the small man outside. "His Highness, King Uther Pendragon of Camelot wishes to speak with you," the guard told him and the man nodded. The guard waited for him to step inside, before the doors were closed again behind him.

He took one look around the room and noticed the two knights and the Prince looking back at him. He quickly evaded his eyes and walked across the hall where he let himself fall down on one knee in a deep bow. No one made a sound and so only his galloping heart seemed to fill the room with sound.

"Rise," the King commanded and the man rose, keeping his eyes lowered in a sign of respect he didn't possess.

He could feel the four pairs of eyes resting on him and knew he had to be careful; not only had he called a meeting in the middle of the night, something only done in emergencies, he had also insisted on keeping it private; one mistake and he would land in the dungeon for the rest of his, probably very short, life.

"Speak up; who are you and why have you called this audience?" The King demanded.

"My name is Col, your Highness, and I think I have the information you seek."

The King raised one brow and leaned forward in his throne, his irritated expression had changed to one craving an answer. "You know who sent the assassin?"

"I do not, my lord, but I do know of someone who might do." It came out more like a question rather than a statement.

"Then why isn't he the one to speak?" The King leaned back again now it was evident that the man didn't have the right information after all.

"I swear on my life, my lord; I would never wish Camelot any harm, but that man would. He knows so much because he is Cenred's mole, I heard him myself just earlier tonight!"

The King looked at him in silence for a long time. "Very well, if what you say is the truth …?"

"As true as I'm standing here, sire."

"Then we will have him arrested at once," King Uther finished and nodded to Sir Leon. "What name does he go by?"

"Boda, my lord."

The King nodded as Leon left towards the doors to carry out the orders, when he was stopped.

"Farther!" Arthur spoke up for the first time that night. "Isn't it a little much to arrest a man on one person's statement?" The prince had been following the conversation the whole time. This was the very information they had hoped for; the information him and his knights needed to continue their investigation. Something just didn't fit and he couldn't just stand back if this feeling turned out to be more than that.

"Arthur?" The King narrowed his eyes a little and gestured for the knights and Cole to disappear. This would be taken privately between them. The King didn't comment on his son's outburst; he was the Crown Prince now and had the right to come with valid objection as long as he didn't outright challenge his orders, but he waited none too patiently for a good explanation.

"Is it really wise to arrest a citizen of Camelot for treason on one stranger's statement?" The Prince began.

"You think he is lying?"

"No, I think we should be careful not to act too rashly.”

“Acting quickly is the whole point. Cenred is more than likely the cause of all this, it would be foolish not to strike first now that we have the chance!” The King of Camelot grabbed a tight hold of his throne and glared at his son, but Arthur didn’t back down.

"If Cenred has one man in the city already wouldn't it make sense if he had more? Even if Col spoke the truth, for him to have overheard this Boda, the man must have spoken to someone. You gave the orders for me and my men to find out if there were any more spies; wouldn't this be an opportunity to get rid of them all?"

Uther had listened to his arguments without interrupting, something that already could be considered as a victory. If he could just convince him to listen … They were close to getting to the bottom of all this, he knew it. Or; they were at least close to something important.

"Very well, have your way; but Arthur?" Arthur looked up into his father's eyes. The King had released his hold of the carved wood, but his right hand was still tightened to a fist.

"If  _anything_ changes; don't hesitate to arrest him at once." The King's voice gave no room for further discussion.

"Yes, sire." Arthur gave a small bow and walked out to relay the message to Leon.

Col had seemingly disappeared into nothing.


	13. The hunt is set

**Chapter 11 – The hunt is set**

The man forced his way through the crowd without care for the bystanders. There were always many people at the marketplace at this time of the day, but today it was like every single citizen had decided to visit and he really didn't have the time to be polite. The sun was burning down and he panted loudly as he walked. Boda wasn't made for this part of his job. He was good at drinking and laughing, getting people to let their walls down so they started talking about the right things. He was not good at fighting his way through a human wall while he was boiling inside.

He ignored the shouts from an angry merchant whose pile of apples landed on the ground when he stumbled into a table, and avoided hitting an elderly woman carrying a large basket with bread at the last second. He absentmindedly bit down on the red apple he had managed to grab from the merchant's pile.

He didn't have a habit of being on time and his contact could hardly claim to be surprised when he showed up late again. The problem was that the he was never sure the contact would wait for him to show up, and it was now more than ever important that he did not miss a single detail or he would be standing in trouble up to his chin.

The message had arrived by the tavern the evening before with instructions of place and time. Though he couldn't read a book to save his life, he was luckily really adapted in the code used in these messages, and he therefore thought himself better off than most people if he had to say so himself. Whatever should he need books for when the important thing were never written in plain Latin?

He looked to the sun; it was just before noon. He would have to run if he wanted to sure that he got there before the contact left. No one wanted to take unnecessary risk in these times, him included, and the whole thing was already more problematic with that stupid assassin getting the guard doubled and nearly ruining everything.

Normally he loved his job; he had no one to take care of other than himself and he would never say nay to anyone offering to pay him for getting people drunk. But this was different. For the first time he could really feel the danger he had placed himself in and it was making him more nervous than usual. He looked over his shoulder more than once as he finally left the thickest crowd and neared the outer walls.

Right now he wouldn't have anything against having magic; the punishment would be much the same either way, but it would have offered him a little more protection; even if it couldn't stop the whole army.

He reached the woods and stepped inside with a grimace. He didn't like it out here. It was to void of people; too many beasts hiding in the bushes of the kind that couldn't be calmed with a mug of good ale. He had more than enough in other people’s stories of their own travels; he had heard everything already so there was no need to live them himself. No thanks. He already longed for his small room at the Rising Sun.

Boda grumbled the whole way down the small deer tracks, a path used mostly by poachers and occasionally knights on patrol; and now him, stomping through the undergrowth.

The trees had changed their clothes from their usual rich green to deep red, nearly golden yellow and every colour between, but the man didn't see this. The beauty of nature was lost to him as he had only thoughts for what he needed to do and what waited for him later.

He had only walked a few minutes before he stopped and hid behind a thick beech. The smaller trees around him made him able to look all the way down the path to where it disappeared towards the castle and this without being seen himself. Perfect. Now he just had to wait.

The seconds ticked by, while he hoped that his contact would stay a little longer, because this was something he would not do without, as it was a precaution that very well could safe his neck.

It turned out to be a smart move as someone came down the path only moments behind him. The knight looked young and untested, scouting ahead with a nervousness that could be seen all the way to the place where the messenger stood. The knight may have been dressed in clothes fit for a commoner, but Boda would be able to pick him out of a crowd without problems on his stance alone.

Boda smirked as the knight nearly jumped when a stick broke behind him. It was always funny to fool the Knights of Camelot and this one seemed like he could have a great time pestering. Too sad that he had a job to do and couldn't have the time to scare him as much as he wanted.

It took less than ten minutes to outwit the knight and loose him in the woods. Boda could feel on his behaviour that this was in no way because the knight was stupid; the boy seemed much smarter than the dim men the King of Camelot usually surrounded himself with, but Boda had experience and confidence on his side and the knight really didn't stand a chance.

He saw the knight again half an hour later, when he had met his contact, who thankfully hadn't decided to leave before relaying the message. He ignored him like he hadn't seen the man standing half hidden by the trees; it didn't matter when he had no proof of anything going on that wasn't completely legal. His grin nearly split his face in two as he tried to hold back his laughter, at least until he was back inside the castle walls.

Boda managed to keep his smile hidden by focusing on planning what needed to be done now. He would have to find a way to call the essetirian knight, Miley and give him the message though he dreaded being alone with him again.

They didn't exactly have a friendly relationship, something to with their different moralities regarding their roles they played, though they always kept their disagreement from preventing them in doing what needed to be done. Well, tried to anyway. If he had to be completely honest; Boda had no longer an idea of how it started, but their small verbal fights managed to keep the feeling of loneliness that came with both of their jobs at bay, and so they continued. The Messenger also knew that it meant more to the knight than it did to him. He had never thought of asking why and he didn't really care either.

When everything was laid out in the open, private thought and feelings didn't play a very important part in this war; it was a game played by kings and cowards and he knew what move his piece needed to take, so he took it.

~o~o~o~

"Arthur," The King acknowledged his son without looking. He stood before one of the windows in his chamber and stared down into the busy courtyard, where the staff and guards were running and walking around each other while making the last preparation for some minor lord arriving later that day. Uther had wondered if he could claim he had paperwork to do and make Sir Leon greet the lord instead; the man was a fool and a drunk, but the man lived at the borders so the King supposed it would be best to keep a good relationship with the man.

Uther sighed and turned to his son. It seemed only yesterday he had been sleeping in the cradle and now standing before him was a knight, a future king. He may not say it often, but Uther was proud of him. He wished Ygraine could have seen their son like this. His wife would have been so proud. She had always been such a caring and kind woman; traits Uther could see in Arthur too, together with his own stubbornness and pride.

"Any news?" The King asked. The last few days had been used to search for any traitors that might hide in the court, but until now nothing had been revealed.

"Boda was spotted heading for the woods," his son said. The King noted that he didn't quite look him in the eyes.

"They found the traitor then?" He prompted.

"No father, they lost him."

The King's face was a mask of indifference while inside he was disappointed. His son had come a long way, but had still much to learn. Knowing when to act passive or rash was one of those things.

"Why didn't you arrest him then?"

The Prince looked really uncomfortable now, but Uther knew he had to harsh in these kinds of saturations. If his son should ever have the chance to survive as King, he had to be seen strong; and to do that he needed to show his enemies that he didn't tolerate any form for missteps or they would act against him.

"I gave you one chance Arthur. If you can't even keep track on your target, then the mission has to end. Arrest him as soon as possible. Don't report back until he sits in the dungeons."

The King turned back to the window; the lord's caravan had just arrived at the gates and he would need to go down to greet him at once.

"This is your last chance Arthur. Don't fail me again."

~o~o~o~

A thump sounded from the window and Merlin quickly hid the book under his blanket. The sun went down hours ago and the candlelight couldn't reach the other end of the room, leaving the area by the window in complete darkness and that darkness was moving.

"Wha-" Merlin tried to say, but ended up gaping instead.

It was at that moment that Merlin got a hold on himself and jumped out of bed. Someone had just crawled through his window, which by its position several meters above the ground shouldn't have been possible in the first place. The fact that this person apparently didn't go by those laws said everything.

"Sorry for the late visit," the person said, and the sounds of someone dusting their clothes of filled the silence.

"Miley?"

The person came closer and the light finally illuminated the face of the young knight. His otherwise dark green eyes, had nearly turned into a stormy grey, and they were once again piercing right through any kind of defends Merlin thought he had been able to build around him during his time in Camelot. The knight gave him a sharp nod.

"I'm sorry about last time."

Merlin gaped for the second time that evening and quickly sat down. Miley had never struck him as a person who apologized and not at all for what the knight surely meant was the truth. What Merlin deep down knew had been the truth.

He looked down at his lap and noticed the outline of the hidden book. He really wasn't good at hiding things. This would probably be as good a time to show it to Miley as any, as a kind of peace offering, because right now Merlin didn't have those kind of words. He could not just accept his position. To do that would be like giving up on the part of himself that wanted to be free and he wasn't ready for that quite yet.

"I found this one when I looked through Gaius' books when I was still in bed," Merlin said and pulled the book out from under his covers. Miley took it and inspected it with a raised eyebrow and looked more surprised by the second.

"A Grimoire. I though every one of them existing in Camelot was burned during the Purge," the knight mumbled, his eyes sparkled a little in excitement, once again back to their deep sea-green colour. Merlin blinked in surprise when he saw this; since when did eye colours change?

"This is fantastic!" The knight exclaimed and Merlin was pulled back from his thoughts. Miley was pointing at a section in the book, Merlin hadn't reached yet and he leant a little forward to get a better look. "This is knowledge that was supposed to be lost …" The knight frowned at Merlin, but didn't stop smiling.

"What kind of spells are you looking at?" Merlin asked and gave up getting a look at the page. Miley resembled an exited child, adding another side to him that Merlin didn't know existed.

His picture of Miley as a person had slowly but surely been changing since they arrived at Camelot; where there in the beginning only had been a warrior, Merlin now saw a man that could end up being a close friend. There were a lot the man didn't tell, but Merlin knew what keeping secrets were like and he didn't blame the knight; and seeing him open like this was worth all of it. It reminded the warlock that the man before him wasn't much older than him and had just grown up too quickly. Maybe the war really had had its impact on the whole kingdom long before Merlin had been taken to the castle.

"This is a small extract from the original book on dragon lore," the knight said without really acknowledging the warlock as his nose was buried deep into the pages. Merlin let him read a few minutes until his own patience ran out.

"Dragon lore? What does it say?"

The knight raised a hand and marked a place in the text with his finger.

"The ancient rules that dragonlords have followed for centuries. Sadly, Uther deemed their powers too close to magic and hunted them down." The knight sounded a little impatient and quickly read the rest. Merlin waited this time until he had finished, before asking something new.

"Who are they?"

"The dragonlords?" The knight looked confused.

Merlin nodded.

"I," the knight frowned again. Then he seemed to come to a conclusion on something and shook his head. "From what I have heard the dragonlords were always very private, and like I just told you; most of what had been written was lost under the Purge."

Merlin could see that the knight wasn't telling the complete truth. The way he talked about the topic was much too indifferent; it didn't fit at all with his happiness he showed not moments before.

"What does the book say then?" He asked instead, once again accepting the knight's secrets for something best left alone for now.

"Not much I'm afraid. Only that, like the name indicated, they could control the dragon kin and that the power was something past down in the family. It is only written in this book to show the relationships between magical creatures and humans that magic has created."

Merlin was disappointed. Meeting the chained dragon had created a whole bunch of questions and he had hoped to get some of them answered here. Which reminded him;

"You said Uther hunted the dragonlords; what about the dragons? What became of them?"

"Uther tried to hunt them too; it's why he took the name. Pendragon means 'Head of the dragon'. He sees himself of a conqueror, and what better to conquer than the fiercest and strongest beast known to men?"

Merlin didn't know. But he did wonder how Uther had managed to drive a race as powerful as the dragon to extinction. If one man held that kind of power the war might not be completely bad after all; at least if it rid the land of the real monster currently occupying the throne of Camelot.

Miley laid the book back on the bed and walked back to the window. "I actually came to discuss your physical training, but I suppose this was just as important. We will certainly have use for that book in the future," he said with a small smile, again letting his eyes sparkle.

Merlin just shook his head a little fondly when the knight crawled out of the window and disappeared, leaving a room behind that seemed more empty than usual. Merlin was sure of one thing; he would never really understand that man, who one moment could be cold and collected and the next playing the protective brother, giving lessons in magic and trying to make the path ahead a little easier to walk.

~o~o~o~

The knights would be easy to spot between the now nearly naked trees, but the same could be said about their foes. The fallen leaves had created a colourful blanket and dulled the otherwise telling sound of hooves hitting the forest floor until it was nearly none existing. The sun hung low on the sky and the last sunrays of the day gave their armour a golden edge.

Arthur rode at the front together with Sir Cadmon; the older knight was keeping an eye out for anything amiss between the trees, while the Prince was scanning the path ahead. Sirs Fane and Edgar were close behind them, currently in the middle of discussing some event happening at the tavern the night before. At the rear Sir Leon was making sure no one was creeping up to them from behind, while sending the two prattling knight a stern gaze from time to time, though there was never any real heat in it.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Sir Fane asked after an hour without anything happening. "We have followed this track the whole day. Wouldn't we have found something by now if there had been anything?"

They had reached a higher terrain and were currently riding on a small slope. A small creek winded through the trees down to their left while their right was covered by the top of the slope. It wasn't the safest place to be riding this time of the year, but they had to follow the tracks of the messenger that Boda had met with.

The tracks were easy enough to follow; the ground was still wet from a recent squall and the horse prints were clear to see on the muddy path. The problem was that it didn't help them in any way; they hadn't packed for more than two days' worth of travel and they had still not found anything useful. Unless they found anyone who knew anything, something not very likely in the middle of the woods, they would have to turn around empty handed. Arthur already dreaded the conversation with his father that would follow.

"We need to keep looking," Arthur answered the younger knight. Had it not been for the King's orders he would have turned around much sooner, declaring the search for failed and any attempt at continuing in vain. The weather was cold, and though their cloaks protected them a little, the wind found still somehow found them through the trees and left the whole group shivering as the sun disappeared.

As if fate had decided to play them a trick something on the ground caught his eye. It was half hidden under some low bushes, but it looked like some piece of fabric, probably torn off by the sharp thorns growing on the twigs.

Arthur dismounted and reached down towards it, when Sir Leon called out to him, "Sire!"

The Prince looked up just as something whistled passed him and pierced the knight's shoulder, making him tumbling to the ground.

They all drew their weapons and turned towards the men running towards them. Most came running towards them from the creak, which gave the knights the advantage of the higher ground that they didn't have in numbers. A few more arrows flew through the air, distracting them until the first fighters broke through the trees.

The knights were clearly the more skilled fighters, but these bandits were clearly not stupid as they quickly used the natural created wall of stone behind the knights as an advantage. While the wall would protect the knights' backs they also made surrounding them much easier.

They were forced closer together until they were standing back to back while keeping their opponents from cutting them down. Leon tried to hold his own even while having to fight with his left arm, his would had been badly bound with a scrap of his cloak, yet the blood had completely soaked it and he would end up losing too much if they kept fighting much longer. The rest of the knights had required minor wounds, none as bad as Leon, but enough to slow them down. The first few attackers had been easily disposed of, yet these had surrounded them and where strategically waiting for an opening while attacking in pairs.

There really wasn't any simple way out of their predicament. The last minuets they had come to a standoff, neither knights nor bandits getting the upper hand, they were tiring and still outnumbered; it was clear to Arthur that they would not be able to kill the last bandits without at least suffering casualties.

Arthur managed to cut down one last bandit down as the man had broken rank to try and cleave the Prince in two with his battle axe, only to nearly lose a hand when another bandit took the dead man's place. The man made a complicated move with his weapon that made Arthur stop in shock and had costed him his life had he not been trained to react on instinct since he was a small boy. He blocked the blow and sent the bandit stumbling back a step which gave him time to look around and take the scene in. He spotted one of the archers running away from the scene and this was the last piece he needed to connect the last dots.

He had been wrong; their attackers were not wearing the normal ragged leather clothing you could expect from bandits, but finely made leather armour. Arthur locked eyes with the bandit, no  _soldier_ , before him and took note at his careful stance of a trained fighter. He exchanged a few more blows with his opponent, only now noticing the fine quality of the sword - maybe the man was even a knight – and checked for other signs of the man's origin, not that he really needed it; the only one of the surrounding kingdoms who used leather armour was Odin's.

He cursed silently in his mind and disposed of his opponent with a few well-chosen moves and opened his mouth to call a retreat. They would have been able to deal with them on their own had they been normal bandits; they could not fight while outnumbered against trained soldiers.

Arthur had been called arrogant more than once, though only to his face by a few, yet he would never risk the lives of his men by fighting against hopeless odds. Even Morgana would have agreed to that, though she would have pointed out that he would have had no problem if he had been on his own. This was one of the reasons he made sure to avoid her as much as possible.

His call was cut short with a hiss as his moment of inattention cost him a cut to his leg by a bandit who had sneaked up to him from his left. Cadmon appeared at his side and together they quickly knocked the man out. As they turned around it was to the sight of their circle having been broken, the soldiers had somehow knocked Sir Fane to the ground and one of them was currently holding a sword to the boy's throat. Cadmon went over to help while Arthur tried to get to a soldier currently sneaking up behind Sir Leon, who was swaying dangerously on his feet and Arthur suspected that it was only the rush of adrenalin that kept him from falling over completely. He tried to run however he barely managed three steps before being upheld by two new fighters and at that point it was too late either way as the soldier had already knocked Leon to the ground.

With two of the five knights down it didn't take long for Odin's men to get the rest on their knees. Arthur gritted his teeth in anger as he stared his captor down. The other man was unfazed by his anger and looked at him with a bored look, as if he had more important things to do and they were only a minor issue. The man poked his sword at the Prince's chest just above the heart.

"Not so high and mighty now, eh Pendragon?" The man taunted. Arthur glared at him, but didn't answer. He would not let the man get the satisfaction. Instead he checked on his knights, they had al a few bruises and cuts, luckily nothing more serious than Leon's bump on the head. The knight was still knocked out and Arthur feared he might have a concussion and what that would mean if the knight didn't wake anytime soon.

The man poked him a little harder to regain the Prince's attention. "More worth alive than dead, ye are. Wants to kill you himself. Otherwise I would ha-"

Arthur never found out what the man would have done as he they both stared sickly fascinated at the blade which had found its way through the man's heart. The Prince's former captor choked once as the sword was pulled out, before crumbling to the ground, his eyes staring straight ahead.

Not wasting any more time Arthur barely registered the dark-haired stranger standing behind the corps before turning around to his men. Sir Cadmon had used the distraction and had come in possession of his own captor's weapon, while the other knights still struggled with theirs.

Tired of too many surprises for one day Arthur quickly grabbed back his own sword and pointed the tip in the direction of the stranger, who didn't seem to mind and raised his left hand slightly in a show of peace. Arthur paused for a moment then nodded at the man and they both joined the fight once more. With the help from the stranger, who revealed himself to be a competent swordsman; they managed to drive the last few men away.

Arthur turned to the stranger and asked him if he was a knight. The man had certainly fought like one and he could be traveling to Camelot from another part of the kingdom. Arthur didn't recognise him though that didn't mean he hadn't been knighted without him remembering. It wasn't uncommon for some of the more powerful lords to knight people on the battlefield. There hadn't been any wars the last decade, but the man's age was a little hard to pinpoint. Arthur would guess him to be around Edgar's age; young yet still old enough to have experienced a few more battles than Arthur himself.

The stranger disappointed him. "No, my lord, I have no noble blood in me," the stranger told him with a small resigned smile.

"A shame; you are excellent with a sword …?" Arthur said.

"Lancelot, sire."

The Prince looked the stranger over one more time. "You must be tired from your travel … Lancelot? Why not come back with us to Camelot to rest a few days?"

Arthur wanted to trust this Lancelot, he really did. He appeared sincerer enough, but the last weeks had made him wary. There was no harm in keeping the man close so he could keep him in sight; just until he was sure the man wasn't a threat.

~o~o~o~

Miley came to him again the next morning, his serious mask back in place, though Merlin noticed that the knight's shoulders were more relaxed and his eyes not nearly as hard as they had been yesterday.

Merlin had been sent out after the last herbs again, as the last time had been caught short. When he was finished he had checked the sun's position on the sky and decided that he had time for a small nap, only to be woken by the knight kicking him lightly in the side.

"Up you get," Miley said and Merlin stood up, while rubbing his tired eyes. He had no idea how long he had managed to nap, but he was freezing a little. He should probably have thought it through before dosing of in the autumn-sun. Gaius would feel no pity if he worked while being sick if the cold was self-inflicted.

"What are you doing here?" Merlin frowned; this was becoming quite a habit for the knight. "Are you following me?"

The knight decided to answer with a question on his own, ignoring Merlin's, "Are you ready to fight?"

"What now?" Merlin stopped his attempt in rubbing some warmth back into his arms.

The knight tossed him a blade. Merlin closed his mouth from where he had started to protest, when the sword landed before his feet and sighed instead. There really was no discussing with the knight; too many failed attempts had taught him that.

"Why are we even doing this? Eadric already taught me and you said we should focus on magic instead?" Merlin asked as the knight drew his own weapon. He wanted to shudder just by thinking back on the months trapped in the grey castle with the feared assassin turned knight. He would much rather train new spells, something he actually liked, instead of being reminded of that time.

Miley snorted. "Then you should have no problems with having a small match?" He said, forcing Merlin to accept the challenge.

They took up a fighting stance and eyed each other up, circling, before Miley attacked. Two blows later Merlin landed on his back with a groan.

"Ow!" He said and gave the knight an accusing glare.

Miley wasn't bothered in the least; in fact Merlin swore the knight found it funny, though his face remained indifferent. "You still think you don't need training?"

Merlin had no answer for that.

"The art of sword fighting is not something learned in a couple of months, regardless of how focused the training is," the knight told him and Merlin resigned himself to stay on the ground to listen.

"It is something perfected through years of practice; something we don't have. I will therefore use every opportunity to teach you everything I can in the time we do have, starting from today. Normally we would use shields as well, so that we don't nick the swords, but these blades are enchanted to never grow dull -"

"Wait," Merlin interrupted him, "The Knights of Camelot don't always use shields when they ride on patrol?" He had seen them arrived back on more than once occasion when visiting Alice's herb stall at the market.

The knight nodded. "The knights do not always use a shield that's true, but this is because the weapons they use are always of the best quality and they have the money to get a new sword if they break. The rest of the army always carry shields, so they don't have to parry the blows with their blade."

"But what if they break in battle?" Merlin asked. He couldn't understand the knight's tactics at all.

Miley gave him a tight smile. "Usually they just use their ability to move more freely without a shield to weigh them down to avoid most of the blows, but if it does break –" The knight shrugged. "Then it's good luck for us," he finished.

They sparred several more times. Miley sometimes stopped mid-fight to correct the warlock's stance or showing him how to move correctly and Merlin was surprised to discover just how much he learnt from that one lesson. Without the constant fear and pain that the assassin's lessons had brought Merlin truly showed himself as a fast learner.

The last time Miley told him to try to use magic. At first Merlin found it hard to concentrate on both things at once, then he dropped trying to outthink the knight and acted on instinct alone. His magic was eager to be of use and this time it was Merlin who laid Miley on his back. He beamed down at the surprised knight and offered his hand, which Miley took with a small tuck of the corner of his mouth.

~o~o~o~

The people still out on the streets bowed as the group of tired riders rode past. No one commented on the stranger riding in their midst, instead they threw him curious looks as the group continued up the street towards the castle. They had made camp the night before together with Lancelot, before ridding back towards Camelot at dawn. Arthur had convinced the man that he shouldn't stay on guard that night, claiming that they were more than fit to do the job, and instead made sure that the other knights kept an eye on the man through the night. He had still woken more than once, checking that Lancelot was still asleep on his bedroll across the camp.

Now that they had reached the castle the fight in the woods and the bad sleep the night before finally caught up with him and Arthur forced himself to stay in the saddle and focus on what he should tell his father once they arrived.

They dismounted in the courtyard and Arthur looked back at the group while stable hands walked their horses to the stables. Sir Leon was being guided toward Gaius chamber's by one of the knights who had arrived to great them. The others waited for his next command.

He nodded once to every one of them and then led the group inside. "When we have reported to the King, you will go to Gaius and get your wounds looked at; I can't have anyone losing a limp because they were too stubborn to get their wounds cleansed of infection," the Prince ordered and they all nodded in agreement.

Lancelot walked at the rear of the group, staring around at the corridors in something close to awe. Arthur didn't comment. Most people, particularly those who didn't live in castle themselves, always reacted like that. It was nothing new and as long as the man kept up with them, Arthur didn't think anything of it; in fact he was proud of his home for getting that reaction out of visitors.

He made Lancelot wait outside while they reported to the King. As Arthur had foreseen, Uther wasn't happy that they hadn't managed to catch Boda's contact. Arthur was not sure what the King would have done if it hadn't been for the news of Odin's men running around that close to the castle. He may have ended up spending a night in the dungeons until his father would have calmed down enough to let him out.

They discussed the plans on how to proceed in private while the other knights were sent to Gaius and only when his father had at last agreed to still wait for more details before arresting Boda, did Arthur make his way out as well. Only, he hadn't any planes of going to Gaius quite yet. He had something else he needed to do before it became dark.

He took some of the servants' entrances out of the castle and walked a small detour to make sure he wasn't followed before he came to a small house in the higher end of the lower town. The house had been the old force, before the old smith, Tom, had died from a magical plague and a man called Brun took his place. Tom's son hadn't been seen for years and no one even knew if the young man was still alive. Arthur had never met Elyan in person, but Guinevere talked about her brother sometimes so he knew how much she missed the only family that she had left.

Arthur knocked on her door, hoping that Morgana had already dismissed her for the night and that she was home. He was relieved when the door opened and she came into view.

"Guinevere," he greeted with a warm smile that spoke of the love he felt for the beautiful woman before him.

"Arthur?" She asked in bewilderment and smiled back. "I thought you were still out on patrol?" She checked him over and gasped when she saw the blood that still showed on his clothes. "You're hurt! Why are you not by Gaius?" Worry filled her deep, brown eyes.

"I will go in a minuet." He promised her with another smile, knowing that this would not be his main reason for seeing the physician. "I just wanted to see if you were alright … And to give you this." He pulled a small lilac flower from his pocket and placed it behind here ear. He had been careful to not damage the flower since he found it in just outside of the castle and it still looked somewhat fresh.

The sound of clicking armour reached them and he wished her fare well before they could be discovered.

He was met with laughter when he arrived outside Gaius chambers. Every one of his knights, with the exception of Cadmon who was currently being treated by Gaius, were all standing around Lancelot. The stranger was in the middle of telling a story, probably how he ended up in Camelot if Arthur's word of caution with them the last night had had any effect at all.

"… We managed to hide from them the rest of the night and when we were about to part the next morning he gave me his swords in thanks. He said I would need it if I ever came across a Griffin again." The others grinned at his words and Arthur used the momentarily pause in the conversation to clear his throat.

They all turned to look at him. "Sire?" Lancelot asked, clearly surprised to see the Prince there.

Arthur chose to look to Gaius first; he could deal with the other man later. He crossed the room to stand beside the physician. "Will he be fine?"

Gaius nodded. "With a little rest they should all make a full recovery, though I would recommend that Sir Leon is relived from his duties for the next week until the wound is fully healed." They both looked to said knight who now wore a white bandage around his sword arm.

"Very well," Arthur agreed. There was no point in arguing; it would be stupid to have his men work if they were in no condition to do so; and these men were his brothers in arms. He trusted them with his life, just as they did with him, and such relationships could only evolve with mutual respect and understanding.

With that settled he only needed to sort out the problem that was Lancelot. The stranger had saved his life, something that seemed to have become a habit for people these last months. The Prince stole a glance at the raven-haired man standing halfway behind the physician, before turning back to his current rescuer.

"Lancelot?" He asked, gaining the man's attention. "Why are you in Camelot?" He tried to keep any suspicion out of his voice and kept the tone as friendly as possible.

Lancelot looked around at the other knight, looking a little lost before answering. "I'm looking for a job, sire. My village was attacked by bandits and now I need to find a new job."

Had Lancelot been a noble he would have tried to get him knighted, not only to keep him close, but also because of his skills with a sword. He was truly sorry that he couldn't do it regardless. The knights' code stated that all knights should be of the original houses to reassure their loyalty. Arthur knew this wasn't necessary the truth; he could look back on knights' like Valiant to see that it wasn't always the truth. The Prince knew that it wasn't ones birth that matters, but ones skills and actions. The law was one of the things he wanted to change when he was King, though he would never say as much to his father.

"Maybe you could seek the job as a castle guard? I could see if there is a position free inside the castle; it would be a shame if you talent wasn't honed," Arthur asked.

Lancelot smiled. "That wou-"

Gaius interrupted with a cough. "If I may come with a suggestion, my lord?"

"Of course, Gaius. You may speak freely."

The old physician looked pleased of his answer and glanced from Lancelot to his own assistant.

"There have been more frequent attacks lately, many of them resulting in men being wounded…" Gaius said, giving the knight in the room pointed looks. "You have been lucky that no one sustained any mortal wounds yesterday and that you weren't further away, but this could very well be the case the next time." The physician wore a grim expression, one Arthur was sure was mirrored on his own face.

Gaius was right; it was pure luck that none of them had been killed. Well, pure luck and Lancelot arriving just at the right time to help, but luck was not something they could be counting on. More men could have been a solution, if it hadn't been for the fact that their task should be kept as secret as possible. That meant fewer people who could end up being a mole.

"What are you trying to say, Gaius?" Arthur asked with a sigh. Trying to work out a solution on his own didn't get him anywhere. Gaius finished with bandaging Cadmon's bruised ribs and began to clean a shallow wound on the knight's shoulder.

"You could do with some treatment yourself." Gaius looked disapprovingly at the Prince's blood smeared armour. Arthur knew this to be the truth, but now was not the time.

"Gaius?" He prompted.

Gaius grunted, not at all satisfied. "Very well. As I see things you would have a better chance if you had someone skilled in healing by your side at all times."

Arthur looked sceptical at Gaius aged body. He respected the old man; he had been a better father figure than his own father had ever been, but he was sure it was a few decades past the time where the elderly man would be able to follow them into battle. His face clearly showed his thought, because it earned him another glare from the physician.

"You either let one of your knights get the education it requires or I could take on Lancelot as a second apprentice until he has learnt the basics."

Arthur thought it though. He couldn't spare even one of his knights unless he wanted to include even more men, yet giving Lancelot the job might be a good idea. The only problem was there still would be a long time where they would go without medical help. His eyes landed on Gaius' assistant. Merlin had been Gaius assistant long enough to know the basics by now, but the man resembled a twig; if he lasted a minuet in the midst of battle Arthur would be surprised.

"No, it would take too long and we don't have the time for delays. Could your assistant come with us instead?"

The eyes of the young man in question widened in shock.

"Merlin wouldn't have any defence against bandits, sire," Gaius said, one of his eyebrows had wandered impressively high up towards his hair-line. Arthur could see Merlin shuffle uneasily.

"And that is why Lancelot will be coming with us too," Arthur said. His voice was calm and he was finally confident that he had made the right choice. He trusted Merlin more than Lancelot, as the assistant had now stayed more than a month by the physician and Gaius was normally a good judge of character. Lancelot would have his hands full with taking care of the younger boy and Arthur would have a chance to figure out why they both saved his life while risking their own. It was the fewest people who did anything without wanting something back.

Gaius agreed to lend out his apprentice when Arthur was out of the castle and the two men nodded in agreement with their new responsibilities.

"Lancelot, you are to report to Harvard tomorrow; he will be at the gates and he will help you get settled in. Now, if anything else is settled?" He looked at Gaius, who had moved towards him and had been cleaning a wound on Arthurs arm, the only one in the risk of getting infected. Gaius finished with a nod. "Then I will take my leave. I have work to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brun: Armour; brown; shining  
> Harvard: Army guard


	14. Inside out in the middle of the plain

**Chapter 14: Inside Out in the Middle of the Plain**

His footsteps echoed every time his feet landed on the dust-grey stones. It was the only thing disturbing the silence of the castle. The dirty windows let only the barest of light escape through, giving the impression that it was in the middle of the night.

The place seemed dead, abandoned by every resident many centuries ago, but if you looked in the corners you would notice the scared eyes looking back at you. The soldiers stood so still, they could have been statures, had they not been breathing. Sorrow and pain was thick in the air, chocking to everyone other than the King and the man currently walking down the hallways.

A terrified maid scurried away from where she had been washing the floor when she spotted him. Her head was held low and the eyes never lifted from her feet until she disappeared into the shadows. The man ignored her.

This was a castle ruled by fear.

Everyone feared  _him_ , too. Even the King feared him, Eadric knew, and he relished in it. The King could try to buy him with every piece of gold in the country; Cenred would never be able to close an eye at night as long as the assassin lived in his castle; the King would always wonder if someone else had bid a higher price on his own head.

The only reason that he still was here was because it suited him; if this changed he would be gone before the rooster crowed the next time. It wasn't the King's gold he was interested in; he had more than enough hidden away, and though he hated the King of Camelot with a passion born of the Purge, at this moment he wasn't much interested in Uther's fate; it would without doubt catch up with the man soon enough.

No, the others didn't know what was unfolding right in front of them. He did, and he would use the opportunity to its fullest.

The dragon was right; prophecies like those would  _always_  come to pass, but choices affected the outcome and he would be making the choices.

He stopped outside a familiar door. It was time for a visit.

~o~o~o~

The six horses strode slowly down the road. It hadn't rained for weeks and the horses' hooves stirred up the dirt, creating small clouds of dust around the men, until there was a fine layer covering their skin. The sun shone strongly from a clear blue sky in spite of the late season, and the heat blurred the horizon. Not that there was much to see anyway; neither hills nor trees could be found anywhere near, only an endless, withered grassland. There was nothing to cast a shadow to give the tired riders and horses a small break from the heat.

They had ridden for hours and were all fighting to keep their eyes open and not slide down from their mounts; at least Merlin felt this way. It was a little hard to make out if he was the only one, when none of the knight would ever give such a weakness away.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked until the blurred, brownish smudge in front of him turned into a horse once more. Riding to Camelot though the green hills and woods were nothing like riding in this dessert-like terrain. The few hours of training he had received last week from Sir Leon could never have prepared him for something like this.

It was only his first time on a patrol and he already hated it.

He led out a groan, which may have sounded a little louder than intended in the silence. The Prince turned around in his saddle to grin at him. "Not used to hard work, are you,  _Mer_ lin?"

While being on the trip Merlin had learnt a few simple facts about the Prince; he was easily bored, and had formed the habit of taking it out on Merlin, usually in the form of taunts or insults.

"How can you call doing nothing in the middle of nowhere hard work?" Merlin mumbled. It may hurt, a lot, but riding around in a steppe could hardly be called work. At least it would never be considered so by a farmer's son like Merlin.

"I didn't quite catch that,  _Mer_ lin …?" The Prince said in a falsely sweet tone, somehow making the warlock's name sound like an insult. Well, they were two playing this game.

"I said, 'I'm covered in a layer of dirt',  _sire_."

"Don't be a girl; it's hardly more than a few grains of sand." The Prince mock scowled and turned back towards the road. Merlin smirked and had to bite his lip to not outright laugh when the Prince tried to brush down his coat without being noticed. Leave it to the royal to actually care about the dust.

Maybe he had been wrong; this still might just get interesting. Or at least give him some good laughs.

They rode for a few more hours before the prince called for a break. They had arrived by a little cluster of bushes, growing all alone on the side of the road. They stood between the only water source they had come by since they arrived at the grassland, and though the stream was nearly dried out too, the group decided to stay for the night.

Merlin led the horses down to the waterbed by a small rapid and sat down to fill his own water skin, when Leon sat down beside him with a nod in greeting. The knight pulled out his own sack and they sat in silence while they waited for the slow trickle of water to fill their skins. The knight used the water to wash some of the dust from his face and Merlin copied his example.

"We will arrive at Littleton just before noon tomorrow if nothing changes," the knight told him, and Merlin nodded unsure of what to answer, but grateful that the knight thought of telling him.

They had sat up camp and taken care of their horses, everyone had helped, much to Merlin's surprise, completely discarding station and acting as friends. Merlin smiled as he looked at Sir Edgar teasing Fane, until the younger knight tried to hit Edgar with his sock. Even the Prince took part in the jokes, though Merlin could see that his smile was a little forced when he turned to Lancelot.

As they hadn't any servants with them Lancelot had volunteered to make the food, and soon the smell of stew filled the air, made of a rabbit Sir Caradoc had caught earlier and added a few herbs from Merlin's supplies to give it some flavour. The last sunrays painted the sky in purple and orange colours, creating a beautiful view as they ate.

Merlin sat and stared thoughtfully into the flames while he chewed his food, letting the others' voices melt together, so he could listen to the last birds singing the sun goodnight. It was oddly peaceful out there, far away from the stress that always lingered back at the castle. He felt himself relaxing against a bush and dozed off as the day's exertions caught up with him.

When he woke up a little later, the loud voices had quietened down to a low murmur. The sparks from the fire popped and the wood cracked as the flames devoured it, but somehow the sound fit perfectly together with the song created by cicadas around them.

The firelight lit up their faces in an otherworldly light, whispering secrets from another time long ago to anyone willing to listen.

Merlin sat up and found himself drawn into a tale from Lancelot's trip to Camelot.

"- I came to the village of Markham just a few weeks ago when I crossed the borders from Cenred's kingdom. I stayed at their inn for a few days and there I heard some rumours from some other travellers."

The Prince and knights sat straighter at this, eager to find out if they could get closer to their goal, while Merlin tried to look smaller. He was not at all at ease with the way the conversation was going; he didn't even know Lancelot that well, but he could already tell that he was an honest man. Something he was sure the others had noticed too.

"What kind of rumours?" Sir Cadmon asked a little wary, rumours may often come from truths, but they were rarely without any modifications.

"At first it was just chatter, but then he began to grumble about new taxes from the King."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Was the harvest better this year?"

"No sire, from what he said it had something to do with the King moving more men to the borders, towards the Grey Castle of Fyrien."

The men were quiet for a long time and Merlin knew this wasn't good. There weren't many reasons for a King to move his troops in such a drastic way and preparations for war were the most likely. After Camelot had made peace with both Mercia and Gawant, Camelot was stronger than ever; for Essetir to prepare for war, without any provocation from Camelot's side, should surely had been suicide … Right? Only Merlin knew that this wasn't the complete truth.

Lancelot was looking rather grave. "This is of course only rumours …"

"Did he say anything else?" Sir Fane asked, but flinched back with a faint blush when Arthur glared at him for interrupting his small interrogation.

Lancelot looked a little unsure between them, and only chose to answer when the Prince didn't come with any indications of stopping him. "Yes … actually he did. I'm not sure if it is the truth, though …"

Merlin shifted uneasily at his place on the other side of the fire.

Lancelot sighed a little. "He told about someone known as "The False Knight" or something ridiculous like that." Merlin froze. That man wasn't someone he would ever call ridiculous. The other men stiffened too, clearly recognizing the name, but not commenting either.

Lancelot sent them a look full of questions, before continuing, "He should also have employed –"

_Splash_

" _MER_ LIN!"

"Sorry sire …"

The Prince shot him an angry glare. His originally bright red cape was now soaked in the leftover porridge. Merlin couldn't really care; it had worked to distract them from the topic. "I will clean it up." He quickly sprang to his feet and snatched the cloak so he could wash it at the stream. He heard the Prince grumble and curse, before offering to take the first watch while the others retired for the night.

Hopefully they would forget to ask Lancelot in the morning; it was only so many times you could spill food on the Crown Prince without ending in the stocks.

~o~o~o~

The visit at Littleton was rather uneventful; the villagers greeted the Prince's entourage and Arthur spoke with the village leader about the upcoming harvest and if they had had any problems. When this wasn't the case, they left the grateful village behind and rode home, having already taken all the other villages on their list on the way to the western border.

If Merlin had thought the trip home would be any easier than the trip out had been he was surely mistaken. The way home turned out to be more boring than the trip out, because even though they now could take a few shortcuts now they had visited the villages, the landscape was still mostly the same.

He gave a sigh and tried to adjust his position in the saddle; his thighs and back were hurting so much now that he was certain they would stay in their current shape permanently.

He gave up trying to find a more comfortable way to sit and glanced around in lack of anything better to do than watching the dessert slowly pass by.

Grassland stretched to every corner of the world. Sand was on the tracks they were following. A few more bushes now that they were closer to the hills. A small grey dot in the blue sky. Even more grass and sand …

_Wait a second._  He looked back at the sky. The grey dot was getting bigger. It looked like some kind of thick bird, but the wings were a little too big ...

His eyes widened as the dragon-like creature began to circle above them, before suddenly diving straight at them. "WHYVERN!" He shouted and flung himself out of the saddle, hoping the others would do the same.

He landed a little awkwardly and grabbed his hurting shoulder, still not at his full strengths and litheness after being wounded. The others had drawn their weapons and where trying to hit the wyvern, which did not seem overly concerned by their metal sticks and flew around in perfectly controlled moves, while it avoided the weapons and tried to snap at their heads.

The wyvern was constantly screeching loudly and it was only when more dots appeared in the horizon that Merlin remembered that Gaius' book said that wyverns, contrary to other dragons, always hunted in packs.

Five wyverns were now circling above them, strategically retreating and attacking them, and slowly tiring the knights out.

The knights and Lancelot had now all followed Merlin and jumped from their horses, when their mounts had begun to rear in fear. The horses had been train for war with sword and lance, but it was still in their nature to run when faced by threats with claws and fangs.

The knights had formed a lose circle with their backs facing each other, so they could always face the threat head on while not having to worry about getting hit from behind. It would probably have worked better if the threat hadn't been from above and came from several individuals at the same time.

Lancelot had gone off to the side so he now stood between Merlin and the beasts much to the warlock's annoyance. He might not be able to do much against the creatures – he was no dragonlord – but he would do what he could; which was surely more of a help than what the soldier could accomplish with only a sword at his disposal.

Merlin grit his teeth, and instead focused on drawing one of his hidden daggers without any of the others noticing. He had not taken the time to properly study these distant cousins of the dragons, and now he regretted that as he knew of no spell which could harm them, but he thought he might just have found a way regardless.

The knights and beast were now engaged in battle though no side was yet winning. As they were both suffering wound, it would seem that the wyverns could be harmed by normal steel which was what Merlin was counting on.

As the wyverns attacked in another wave of claws and screeches he took his chance and counted; one, two … he ducked the attack of the third and flung his dagger at the forth just about to attack Sir Cadmon from behind. He reached out with his magic and added an instinctual push to the weapon as it cut through air and then grey scales and flesh. The wyvern screeched loudly as it turned towards him before the heavy blood loss from a cut aorta caught up with it and it tumbled clumsily to the ground.

A shout of triumph alerted Merlin that the Prince had cut down another one, but there was still two more strategically attacking and retreating, all the while wearing out the already saddle-sore knights. It wasn't until several stressing minutes later that one of the wyverns found a hole in the knights' defence and nearly tore up Sir Edgar's right arm. The knight threw himself at the beast and rolled under it so the wyvern ended up piercing the ground with its large claws instead. Before the confused animal could regain its bearing, Arthur and Cadmon were upon it and cut it down.

The last wyvern, who was circling above them, uttered a harsh cry, from sorrow or anger Merlin didn't know, before it turned tail and flew back across the plain. The knights' yelled in victory and shouted curses after their retreating foe, following up with laughter and shoulder pats while they checked their various injuries.

Merlin didn't join them. He had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. He looked at Lancelot, as the man stopped before him his face clearly showing his worry. The soldier laid a hand on the warlock shoulder, but Merlin's gaze had locked himself on the Prince, even when Lancelot tried to gain his attention. "Merlin, is everything alright?" Merlin didn't answer.

None of the knights had gotten any mayor injuries and the Prince looked more than pleased with the outcome of the battle. "Merlin?" Arthur called over his shoulder, while turning around. But Merlin was listening to neither the Prince nor Lancelot who was now gently shaking his shoulder.

The Prince called out more fiercely, " _Mer_ lin! Stop sleeping and get on with it!"

Merlin finally unfroze and threw himself at the Prince. He just managed to catch a glance of Arthur's wide eyes look of surprise when he barrelled into him and successfully sent them both sprawling on the ground for the second time since they met. The fifth wyvern, who had been missing for most of the fight, but then launched a surprise attack, was screeching Merlin in the ear and it was all he could do to not just fling the beast away and outing himself to everyone.

Arthur was trying to yell something to his men close to Merlin's other ear and if he somehow managed to get out of this situation with both his life  _and_  hearing intact, Merlin would remember never to get this close to the Prince again or he might get trauma. He would take the wyvern's cries any day.

He quickly untangled himself and left the Prince trying to get his sword out while also getting off the ground and quickly slashed at the beast with another quickly drawn knife. The wyvern moved back with a hiss and spread his wings when the knights began to tighten the ring they had formed around the two men and the beast, and Merlin had only a second to reconsider before he was forced to throw his knife or risking getting his head ripped off by a set of dagger-sized claws.

As the steal once again found its mark, one of Merlin's so-called lessons with the false knight played in his mind.

_"Combats with man against man are not the only fights you can come across," The false knight said. He was wearing a cat-like grin, while he played with a dagger. The young warlock shuffled with his hands, more than a little nervous. He really wanted to be anywhere else than here._

_"You have to expect the unpredictable," the assassin continued and grinned at him._

_Merlin's eyes widened when the assassin mumbled something and conjured a snake the size of a sheep from air and he jumped back as it started hissing at him._

_"What do you want me to do with that!?" Merlin asked, his voice several pitches higher than normal. He had never had anything against snakes; this exemplar had eyes at as big as his fists though, and could hardly be compared to his much smaller and shy cousins who Merlin used to see sunbathing near Ealdor._

_"Survive," the assassin told him._

_The snake lunged at the surprised boy, sprouting black wings from its back as if the rest hadn't been enough._

Just like he did at that time months earlier, he hit the beast right between its eyes, successfully killing it. The wyvern hit the ground with a loud  _thump_ , a small cloud of dust rose from beneath it.

"Ehm …" Merlin looked around a little lost. How would he ever be able to explain this? "Ehm, I think I got lucky?" He asked hopefully.

The Prince just shook his head, mumbling something about 'wonders will never crease' before apparently deciding to deal with it later. "We need to get back," he ordered and they all went out looking for the horses.

When they were finally ready to go, some spouting bandages doe to Merlin's quick help, they all saddled up and rode home in formation, all of them sending one last look back at the dead wyverns to make sure no more attacks were coming from behind.

Merlin could feel Lancelot's gaze on him for the entire ride and he had a hard time ignoring it while also keeping an eye out for any more unwanted surprises.

This time Merlin didn't think the surrounding vegetation of endless sand and grass was boring at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Littleton: Small town  
> Markham: Homestead on the boundary


	15. Chasing the night

**Chapter 13 - Chasing the Night**

The darkness had swallowed the sun and the white walls of Camelot, which always glinted like snow at day, now resembled a ghost against the night sky. The kitchen cat chased a rat down one of the alleys, the rodent's pitiful squeaks useless as the cat held it in its claws. The street, where the tired out patrol of the Prince and his troop had arrived only hours earlier, was now complexly empty of life, safe for a few unfortunate guards who were sleepily guarding the city.

He walked close by the houses in the lower town, keeping away from the few lit torches and the occasional guard. His King had always had a different opinion on what the title Knight of Essetir entailed; hunting, not for game, but people, was a large part of what he did. Hunting down criminals was one thing, hunting the people the King found interesting or annoying was another, yet refusing was not an option if he didn't want those he loved a head shorter.

Not all knights had those objections; there were actually few who did. They enjoyed feeling the power they had over the people they hunted; Miley knew this, he could see the enjoyment shinning in their eyes. In his mind he saw them as sick; only those who weren't right in their minds would feel no remorse when they dragged innocent men, woman and sometimes even children through the gates to the grey castle. No mentally healthy person would be able to hear them weeping and begging for their lives and not  _care_.

He would be a hypocrite though if he didn't admit that he wasn't much better. Many had tried to rebel over the years, but it never worked and was just a waste of lives in the long run.

If he was completely honest with himself he might also just be too scared to try.

So instead he did what he could. Gave a few coins to the orphans living on the streets, warned the gypsies when a patrol would pass through his lands, turned a blind eye if one of his tenant farm's children decided to leave his lands without written permission.

All didn't change that one didn't survive easily in a place like Essetir if he didn't fully agree with those in power. Though this wasn't necessary always the King.

Miley had seen for himself how the higher lords were constantly looking over their shoulders while bribing both the King and their own vassals to keep themselves in power. The political game between them were complicated and bloody and Miley tried to stay out of it as much as possible, his father's old lands were far to the north and not very large, but he admitted that he too held himself good friends with the surrounding lords. Essetir had really become a kingdom ruled by madness.

He wished he could do something more in the grey castle, the Castle of Fyrien, too, but with neither running nor rebellion as an option there wasn't much he could do. He didn't think there was much anyone could do that was just how society worked. These were the same reasons he couldn't take Merlin and run neither. He had come to care for the younger boy, even though he had promised himself that it would be better not to. If Cenred ever found out … He was replaceable as a knight and right now he still had some chance to do something in the upcoming war, and this war would come he was sure; what was important was that he survived until it started.

He needed to help the young warlock, because Merlin was important in ways that the King didn't understand. He hoped Eadric didn't understand either even if the chance for that being the case wasn't big, that sorcerer stole more knowledge than money. Eadric had always been the real problem, and they didn't exactly see eye to eye. It was a wonder that he hadn't been stabbed in the back yet.

What he really needed was a moment to think and plan ahead, but now wasn't the time.

He took another shortcut to get to his destination. He stayed in the shadowy part of the alley for a few extra moments when he arrived to make sure no soldiers would be coming after him. No one came; a bonus for knowing the rounds from experience he supposed. He knocked twice at a loose plank.

The chosen place was an alley close to the marketplace, but away from the usual routes used when patrolling the streets; these kinds of alleys where like labyrinths, and he was glad he had memorised the layout as soon as he arrived at the castle; perfect to disappear into. He looked down both ways just to be sure that no soldiers were near. He had a bad feeling for the upcoming night.

"Never a moment too soon, eh? Some people just don't care when others are freezing half to death out here," Boda grumbled in a low voice as he neared the Knight from a dark corner.

"It's hardly freezing yet," Miley said from under his hood, and did nothing to hide his impatience. The messenger snorted, but didn't comment.

He really didn't have the time for this. "What do you have?"

"The King wants the plans at the end of this month. He has already moved his troops into place."

Miley shook his head. This couldn't be true, even the King would not think that could be remotely possible to achieve. "The end of this month?" He hissed at Boda, "That's in four days' time? We were given until the first day of winter!"

The messenger shrugged. "Hey, lad, it's not me who is making the rules here, no reason …"

Miley didn't hear the rest of what the messenger said; something that sounded very much like quiet footsteps where closing in on them. Afraid of letting the owner of the footsteps know that he was discovered he made no comment on it to the messenger, who was still quietly pratting on about something really  _not_  interesting at the moment.

The footsteps stopped.

Some fabric moved a little further down the street.  _Somewhere to the left of us … More than one person by the sounds of it. A patrol perhaps?_  Miley tried to outthink a plan that didn't involve them being arrested. The sound of a sword leaving its sheath made his eyes widen and discard any further planning; no use of being discreet now.

"- just like this drunken merchant last nig-"

" _RUN_!" Miley hissed as loudly as it was possible without giving his voice away, which was probably exactly what Boda did when the man shouted in surprise as Miley dragged him with him to the opposite direction than the, now running, footsteps were coming from.

~o~o~o~

The knights had all gathered at the place where Sir Cadmon had seen Boda heading towards. They could only just fit behind a few overturned empty barrels without being seen by the man, and had muttered more than one soundless curse since they arrived.

It was hard to make out anything in the darkness, and as the minutes ticked by Arthur wondered if hiding outside in the cold air, while being squeezed together like caged chickens at the market, had all been for nothing. This was of course the moment when a stranger arrived wearing a cloak. The cloaked man waited in the shadows for a while before knocking at the side of one of the houses making Boda reveal himself.

The fact that they were meeting inside the castle walls were disturbing itself, the fact that this could mean that they knew this stranger even more so.

Arthur cursed their choice of hideout when it became clear that they weren't close enough to distinguee the low murmur of the two people. He gestured for the knights to close in on the pair until the conversation could be heard.

"- lad, it's not me who is making the rules here, no reason to get all riled up. I'm just doing my job," Boda said in defence of something they hadn't been able to make out.

 _A man then_ , Arthur thought and signalled for the others to take up their positions and be ready. They would have to interrogate them later, but now the most important thing was to arrest them in the first place.

The stranger hadn't given the messenger an answer; in fact he had not said a word since they had moved position and Arthur suddenly had the suspicion that the man knew exactly where they were. They had to make their move  _now_.

He drew his sword as quietly as possible.  _Nearly there._

Boda was still talking. "You are behaving just like this drunken merchant last nig-"

" _RUN_!" The stranger hissed and dragged the messenger behind him. The Prince and the knights ran after them around the corner.

Arthur cursed at himself while they raced after the two men. They couldn't let them escape now of all times; not when they were so close to finally ending this mad hunt. One narrow passage disappeared behind them after another. There were hundreds of small cuts and crannies around here and he was careful to keep the two men in sight at all times, or he was sure he would surly lose them.

They were slowly gaining ground, Boda visible slowing the pair down, much to delight of the Prince. He dried some sweat away from his brow and concentrated on setting one foot in front of the other. They were all panting be now and their throat was beginning to burn from sprinting this far, and still they didn't stop.

The messenger stumbled once, nearly tripping over something on the ground, that Arthur made sure to avoid, and now the Prince was only a few feet behind them. Soon he would be close enough to reach out and grab them.

The stranger must have realised this too as he turned around so suddenly that Arthur nearly ran him over. The cloaked man had raised his right hand and it was much too late that the Prince could comprehend its meaning.

"ÀHYLTEN!" The cloaked stranger shouted, and both the Prince and Sirs Fane and Edgar, who were just behind him, were thrown back onto the ground.

Arthur managed to flip himself mid-air and roll out of the fall without more than a few scrapes to his face and hands. The two knights weren't as lucky and were knocked out cold when they hit the stony street.

So apparently the stranger had magic too, just the more a reason to lay him in chains before he hurt anyone else. People like him were bad examples to others. Regardless of how the King and the citizens of Camelot thought, Arthur wasn't completely sure if magic was as bad as everyone thought; he knew Morgana's dreams weren't just nightmares. She had confided in him about her fears of it being magic and he would die before he let her down. But he also knew how harmful a weapon it could be in the wrong hands; the hundreds of attacks on innocent people through the years after the purge were proof of that. Revenge couldn't justify murder.

This man certainly had no qualms against hurting others.

Arthur made a split decision to chase after the two criminals and hoped the knights would be okay without him. At the next fork the pair split up and he ended up chasing the shadow moving closest to him; better to get one than lose both of them. He could hear one of the knights still left trying to catch up with him, the other having hopefully stopped by Fane and Edgar, but Arthur was afraid that the knight wouldn't reach the other person in time.

This time the chase was cut short as his prey rounded a corner and ended up in a dead end.  _Trapped then_.

The Prince slowed down to a stop, no longer in a hurry, and raised his sword in warning. Their hard breathing was loud in the quiet night, as they took each other in one in triumph one in resignation.

Arthur pulled in another breath before deeming himself ready to talk again.

"Stand down. You are hereby arrested for espionage and treason against the crown, and will be judged and sentenced according to the laws of Camelot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Áhylten: trip (them)


	16. You will never outrun destiny

**Chapter 14 – You will never outrun destiny**

Merlin was flipping through the pages of the Grimoire trying to find something about prophesies. He had already gone over the possibility of visiting the dragon again, and even if he had decided before that it would be of no use he was now inclined to try regardless. 'That is for you to discover' the dragon had said the last time, but how should he ever discover what his  _destiny_  was? Wasn't that supposed to be a secret? And why would the dragon even care about him at all, right now his destiny looked rather dark if he should say so himself? What made him important enough to even know he had one – his magic? There were simply too many question and no answers to give at all.

Cryptic dragons, mindreading assassins, hypocritical Kings or strange Knights; he had no idea which of them were the worst.

He scratched his head. It had been hurting the last few days and he sometimes felt a flicker of the assassin's presence. Maybe he did know who the worst was, after all.

He jumped up when the warning bells began to ring. For a moment he was afraid that the King had decided to already attack Camelot and that they were at war, but it wouldn't make any sense for him to send him and Miley if this was the case. They hadn't really done much, yet at least.

Merlin ran out of his room and down to the main chambers, where Gaius was already sitting up and pulling on some more proper clothing.

"Stay here," the physician ordered and Merlin could see the worry in his eyes as Gaius walked out of the doors to find the King of Camelot.

When the physician had closed the doors again Merlin heard a loud  _THUD_  coming back from his own chamber. Remembering the last time that happened he hurried back inside, and just as he thought; Sir Miley was once again standing in the middle of his room. This time wearing a cloak and seemed a little haggard, like he had just run a mile or two.

The window towards the lower town was still open and Merlin could hear shouts and curses coming from the soldiers below. Looking back at the knight he gasped in understanding and quickly went over to close the shutters. Miley had sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled down his hood. A pair of tired eyes stared back at the warlock and the knight let a hand run through his hair in frustration. Merlin could see the darkness in the man's eyes again; something had happened more than the knight being chased by a patrol, of that Merlin was sure.

When it became apparent that the knight wouldn't start a conversation on his own Merlin decided to push him in the right direction by asking the question hanging in the air around them, "What happened?"

Miley held up a hand and took a deep breath, looking ready to collapse on the bed. Merlin slowly sat down besides the other man and waited for him to begin.

"Do you have any water?" The knight finally croaked, making Merlin look up from where he was examining his night socks. Merlin looked around to his small table besides his bed where he had left an empty glass the night before. Unwilling to get something from the main chamber he grabbed it and held his right palm above it while mumbling, "Waeter onbregdan hiersumie me."

The glass filled itself up to the edge with cold water, which Merlin handed to the knight. Miley drank gratefully and gave him a forced smile when he finished.

"You're getting better."

Merlin nodded, waiting for the knight to continue, this had to be big.

Miley pressed his lips together in a tight line and stared into the empty cup. He licked his lips ones before talking. "I had a meeting with Boda –"

"Tonight?" Merlin interrupted and then flushed. He knew this wasn't the time for questions, and not at all when the knight was in a bad mood, and a hairbreadth away from closing up again.

"Yes," Miley answered after a minuet of hesitating. "We were discovered by the Prince and his knights, and they chased us through the alleys. We separated."

Merlin sat quietly on the bed, dreed was settling in his stomach at the knight's words.

"They caught him didn't they?" Merlin whispered. Miley nodded and looked towards the open window. The voices below had quietened down and the warning bells had been silenced in the wake of the cloaked man's disappearance.

Merlin had not really known Boda that well; he had only met the man two times and he couldn't speak very highly about the man's character, but Boda had been their only ally in the city; to lose him made Merlin feel even more alone and vulnerable than he did before. He couldn't help feeling sorry for him either; just like Miley he was just doing his job. Yes, his job would cause other people to get hurt. Merlin was not trying to make him less guilty; he just thought it unfair that Boda had to pay the price for Cenred's orders.

Miley's expression had changed into the blank mask Merlin had feared, and he was once again reminded that the man before him had been following orders too when he had brought Merlin into all this. They were all out on deep water.

He should be more careful around Miley in general. The man knew practically everything about him, but Merlin knew next to nothing about Miley. He didn't even know if the man had a family or if Miley even was his real name. Yet, Merlin just couldn't get himself to fear the young man before him.

In appearances Miley reminded Merlin of Will, just taller and more slender with a hair just as wild as Merlin's own. He looked exactly like every other farmer in the country, if you looked away from the calculating eyes and the sword he liked to carry by his side. He was also the closest Merlin had to a friend at the moment, and he could not afford to get petty with the people around him, with his only family being his mother locked up in Essetir and Gaius not even knowing that he was his uncle. He needed people he could count on who would at least not turn him in or stab him in the back. He really hoped he had made the right choice with Miley.

"We need to prepare for tomorrow?"

"Wait what?" Merlin asked, surprised at the complete change of topic.

"Cenred has changed his plans. He wants us to go through with the plan now," Miley said in a bitter voice, and Merlin was suddenly frozen in panic. It would happen now. What he had dreaded for months was being sat in motion now of all times, just when he had started to learn his first real spells, and had had his first lessons with Miley in sword fighting; the first lessons he liked and found interesting. Now all that would end as war would follow soon after if the King's plan worked.

"What plan?" Merlin whispered.

They both froze when the door creaked into the main chambers. They could here Gaius walking around, and Merlin hoped and prayed that the man wouldn't decide to check on him. They both breathed a sigh of relief when they heard Gaius's bed creak and then silence.

Miley waited for a little while, until they were sure that Gaius had fallen asleep.

"We are to steal a map over the hidden entrances of the castle, and deliver it and the map you have already drawn to Cenred before next week."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Merlin asked. "It will take at least two days of riding to get to the castle, and after tonight they will be looking after anything amiss; they would discover us before we even reached where the map is kept; we can't break into the vaults."

Miley shook his head. "They don't know that we're already in the citadel, and the map cannot be found in the vaults right now; the Prince keeps it locked inside his own room."

"How do you even know this?"

"There are plenty of servants who aren't exactly thrilled with their current position and will give such information for a few coins; rumour circulates always in these kinds of places – But this is not important, what is though; is that you learn the spell to copy the map unto another sheet of parchment."

~o~o~o~

They were cut off from their practice by some tumult outside in the physician chambers, and hurriedly tiptoed towards the door to listen.

"- doing here," Gaius was asking in an angry voice of whoever had come into the chambers. He was clearly not happy about being woken for the second time that night.

"We have reasons to believe that the intruder might have slipped into the castle," a voice answered politely.

"And why would this intruder be in my chambers, Sir Leon?" Gaius asked not covered by the knight at the least. Merlin could see the Physician's expression in his mind eye, how the eyebrow would have risen all the way to the top like only Gaius could do; Leon must have a hard time not covering before the elderly man.

"It is on orders of the King, Gaius" The knight said, apologizing and promised, "We will be quick."

More ruffling was heard as more people entered, probably guards, as they attempted to move around and search.

Merlin turned towards Miley panic clear on his face. The knight was looking grimly at the door, realising just as Merlin that there would be no easy way out of it this time, with the guard still running around and searching outside at well. The knight grabbed the handle of his sword, which had been hidden under his cloak the whole time and waited for them to arrive at Merlin's room next.

There weren't any places to hide, Merlin looked around and he didn't even try to think if Miley would hide in the cupboards; like that wouldn't be the first place the soldiers would look either way.

Instead the knight stepped on the other side of the door, where it would swing open, just as it did and Sir Leon stepped in with a knock.

"Sir Leon," Merlin said and gave a nod in respect. Leon nodded back with a tired smile and Merlin only then came to think on that he was still in his nightclothes; oh well, there was not much to be done about it and they had more difficult problems to deal with at the moment.

Leon checked under the bed and in said cupboard and was on his way towards the closet just on the left side of Miley’s hiding place, when Merlin though it best to distract him and not play around with fate.

"Ehm." He said and the knight turned around in question. Merlin was completely lost about what to say; his mind entirely blank. "Who are you looking for?" He asked weakly and smiled a little stupidly at the knight.

Leon smiled again in reassurance. "There was spotted an intruder in the castle; don't worry, we will have caught him by morning."

Merlin bit his lip; that was exactly what he was afraid of.

Leon chose at that moment to look behind the door and Merlin could do nothing but swallow and wait for the shout of surprise; if Miley didn't kill him before that.

None of this happened though, as the space behind the door was completely empty. The knight moved to the closets and when this was checked and found empty too, the knight deemed to room clean.

"Nothing here," he said and moved out to the main room and repeated the words before leaving. Merlin stood behind in shock and was not entirely sure what had just happened.

Merlin exchanged another rounds of good nights with Gaius. The physician cast one look at Merlin's white face and asked if he wanted something. Merlin shook his head, mumbling that he was just tired and closed the door again with a satisfying click of the hasp.

He sat heavily down on his bed, when Sir Miley appeared out of thin air right in front of him, making the younger man nearly jump to his feet again.

"How did you do that?" Merlin exclaimed and the knight gave him a small smile; the first real smile that night.

"A simple trick of light, nothing difficult," the knight said with a small chuckle. Merlin looked from the place behind the door to the knight.

"How?" he asked.

"I simply bend the light around me; it makes you practically invisible. Maybe I will teach it to you sometime."

Merlin just shook his head, not in denial, but because he was no longer sure what was right and what was left. He was beginning to believe that 'normal days and nights' didn't exist in Camelot at all.

~o~o~o~

It was first in the morning that the real consequences of the night before finally registered fully in Merlin's head, as the rest caught up with him.

He was eating breakfast with Gaius when a guard knocked on the door.

"You are requested at the throne room, immediately," the guard said. Gaius nodded in acceptance and already was on his way out of his seat; breakfast left behind, forgotten, before turning back towards the man again with a raised eyebrow.

"And may I asked, what the reason is for a meeting before breakfast?" He asked the guard calmly. The guard scratched his head.

"I-I don't know … Sir?" The guard stuttered and looked around for help that weren't there.

He cast a longing glance at the door behind him. "I better go, sir, before my presence is missed …" The guard then turned around and nearly ran back out of the door.

Merlin could hear the old physician mutter about 'youth' and 'impatience'.

Merlin thought that Uther was the one impatient one right now, but didn't voice his comment out loud, else he would end up scrubbing the leach tank again. Not worth the comment for sure.

They both arrived at the throne room soon after; Gaius dragging Merlin with him to observe the preceding of the court, or so he said. Merlin could only think back at the halfway eaten porridge he had left behind; it would be cold and sticky when he got back, completely uneatable …

The last lords arrived and Merlin got something other than food to think about as the King raised a hand to make everyone fall quiet. Merlin was rather nervous now; the bad feeling had returned and seemed to fill up the entire room; last time he had been in here he had ended up with a dagger in his shoulder. He hoped it wouldn't end up as badly this time, but somehow he was afraid it would be even worse.

This time there wasn't any table in the middle, instead the court had parted in two groups on each side of the three thrones where the royals would sit under the meeting. Merlin frowned at the lack of anywhere to sit; he had heard from Gaius that they usually sat and discussed court matters for hours; wouldn't they need a table for that? He really didn't hope he would have to stand for the rest of the day.

There weren't many in the room, not at all like there had been at the feast. Only the few lords that where representing the King's court, mostly the richest and most influencing of them, where allowed at these meetings and for the first time Merlin realised how lucky he was to be here.

He spotted the castle librarian among the resembled. Geoffrey of Monmouth was a good friend of Gaius' and had visited a few times to share their dinner. He had been a very dry and boring man in Merlin's opinion, loving and speaking only about his books and frowning unimpressed at Merlin no matter what he did, nothing seemed right to the man.

Merlin checked the few guards and knights' faces standing on guard to the sides. He had been sure that such private meeting weren't meant for others than the head knight either, but he spotted both Sir Edgar and Sir Cadmon among them. Sir Leon too, stood behind the throne, a grave expression marring his face. It slowly dawned on Merlin that all wasn't a court meeting and suddenly wanted as far away as possible.

He looked around to make his escape, yet instead of an unguarded side door he found Miley standing in a corner. The knight was disguised as a soldier and resembled every other of the guards on duty had it not been for the sword at his side. The weapon was not the standard blade worn by soldiers of Camelot, but the one he had brought with him from Essetir. This would have been a risk if it hadn't been halfway hidden by the crowd; Merlin doubted anyone else would notice this detail with everything else happening around them.

Merlin finally understood why Cenred had picked the man to help him here. He had never quite seen a warrior like him; he had still not found a weakness by the knight. Maybe besides his habit of closing himself from others though Merlin couldn't really find an advantage in that either.

Then the doors were thrown open and the King of Camelot, followed by his children, arrived.

Uther held his head high, all his personality screaming power and confidence. More like arrogance in Merlin opinion, but he had to give Uther the respect that he very much looked a King whatever the situation was. He still caught himself glaring at the man: this was the reason children had to grow up without parent; why people were hunted down and butchered like animals; the reason why some people lost themselves in hate and revenge; all because of one man's icy heart.

Once again Merlin wondered what really had caused the Great Purge those years ago. Miley still hadn't told him about what really happened with the dragon though Merlin was nearly sure that the knight knew more than he let on. It wasn't a far leap to assume that the knight knew what started it all too.

The royals sat down and the doors were thrown up once more, this time for two guards dragging a limp person between them towards the thrones.

I trial, of course, he should really have expected it after the night before. The safeness of the physician chambers and Miley's successful escape had just pushed everything else to the back of his mind, even that Boda hadn't been lucky. Maybe he had just been glad it hadn't been Miley. Maybe he hadn't thought he would be here at the trial, that it would be held this early at all.

Maybe he really should stop been egoistic. And scared.

Merlin was close to throwing up.

It suddenly made much more sense why the essetirian knight had risked discovery by coming.

The guards forced the messenger to kneel before the King, while Uther glared down at him. Boda didn't as much as acknowledge the man and just continued to look blankly at the stone floor. Merlin could feel tears threatening to run down his cheek and he quickly wiped them away; he shouldn't be crying for a man who had committed treason even if he was about to be sentenced to death; shouldn't cry about a man he had worked together with and yet not really known, but he still wanted to cry; mostly because the man facing a sentence now could have been one of them.

The guards bowed and stepped a step back, reassured that even if the prisoner should do the unlikely thing and move; they would easily be able to reach him in time. Only then did Boda lift his head, and Merlin nearly looked away when he did. A few straws were sticking out of his hair, and his jaw looked slightly swollen. Boda's eyes where empty and rimmed red, just as the few places on his faces where the drying blood from various scrapes stood out from the dirt.

He looked like any other drunken tramp you could find on the road; a sick hound whose bark had been beaten out of him. There was nothing left of the man he had been, because the man before them had already lost his faith and died.

Merlin couldn't look at them as the King began to recite the accusation; instead his gaze was drawn to the two beside him and was surprised at what he found when he finally understood the sight. Both Arthur's and the lady's face carefully hid their disgust, but not for the man kneeling before them. Morgana's gaze was flickering between the convicted and the King, and the glint would only appear for the later. Arthur didn't look at either of them; he looked just as unreachable as the messenger. No, they weren't disgusted by the criminal, only the situation.

It gave Merlin a small hope that Camelot might not yet be completely lost.

Only when asked how he would plead, did Boda wake up from his trance and sat a little straighter. "I only plead for your time to end, Uther," he spat, "let you feel your victims' pain, let the kingdom fall and the remains rot –" He was cut off from his tirade when one of the guards kicked him at his legs and he tumbled headfirst onto the floor; unable to catch himself with his bound hands.

The punishment had already been decided before any of them had even arrived, and yet everyone listened as the messenger was sentenced to hang at first light.

_"Can't we help him?"_  He asked Miley later. _"We could break him out and help him flee the castle?"_

But they couldn't. Uther knew they were still inside the castle walls; trying to break Boda out would be a suicide mission.

_"Boda knew the risk, and unlike many others he chose his job willingly."_

It didn't keep them from sitting up all night lost in thought, until morning finally came, as it always did, and brought with it the start of a perfect autumn day.

Just because they had all known what would come, didn't make its arrival any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waeter onbregdan hiersumie me: water, come here obey me


	17. The map of war

**Chapter 15 – The map of war**

After the execution of the messenger, Camelot seemed to go back to normal. The courtyard was cleared of the gallows, yet Merlin could still feel it standing there every time he had to cross the open space. He was quieter than usual and let Gwen or Gaius do the talking, while he himself was lost in his own thoughts more often than not. He missed Ealdor more than ever. Hunger might have been common in the late winter months and sickness not unusual, yet death had seemed less of a threat than it was here in the great city of Camelot. Here the streets was filled with ghosts even in the middle of the day, when he had to get Gaius some clean water the well whispered about drowned children and though the castle was filled with people it felt dead, deprived of the magic nature provided. Merlin wondered why he hadn’t seen it before. Everything was so false here.

“How can they pretend nothing happened?” He asked the knight. Miley had stopped him in the middle of the crowed street and they now stood to the side and watched as the busy merchants and traders went on with their daily chores. He probably should have been on his way back to Gaius with his scare devil* and chamomile, but this somehow seemed more necessary at the moment.

“To them nothing has happened; a traitor was found and punished accordingly and they can sleep safely in their beds once more. Politics doesn’t concern the carpenter’s son or the newly wed maid, why should it?”

Merlin nodded. His eyes stayed on the moving crowed.

“It shouldn’t concern us either.” Though he wasn’t sure that was the truth for the knight; Merlin was just the bastard son of a farmer. Miley didn’t answer and Merlin took it as agreement.

“We still need to get it tonight,” Miley said and all thoughts about the execution the day before left the warlock’s mind. He quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching them. There wasn’t.

“The map?”

Miley nodded, his expression was kept carefully blank.

Merlin looked back at the merchants. One of them had caught a young boy with a stolen apple and was shouting at him, while another boy exploited to opportunity to nick a few apples on his own.

“Shouldn’t we wait? After …” Merlin trailed of, a lump in his throat prevented him from finishing his sentence.

“Like I said yesterday; we haven’t got the time to wait. We just have to hope that they will expect us to lay low and not try anything this early.” They knight padded him on the shoulder and sent him a look that clearly told him to stop worrying.

“Wait for the sound of the second bell at midnight then go and get the map. I will make sure the guards are occupied.”

The knight didn’t elaborate and Merlin didn’t ask. They stood a few minutes more in silence before Merlin nodded his goodbye and started to walk back towards the castle.

~o~o~o~

The stars where covered by a thick layer of clouds that night and Miley quietly cursed his bad human eyesight as he nearly ran into some rubbish in one of alleys. He straightened his cloak and made sure it was still covering his armour underneath and then continued on.

There were still a few hours until midnight, and a few drunken citizens still occupied the main street, their drunken songs filled the air until the baker’s wife shouted for them to shut up. Miley smiled sadly; he had bought a loaf of bread from her earlier that day, and she had reminded him of his own wife back home.

He needed to hurry if he wanted to finish his preparations in time, however not so much that he needed to throw all caution to the wind and he waited patiently for a young couple to cross the street in front of his alley. The girl was blushing at the young man, who Miley vaguely recognised as a guard sometimes stationed together with him, and giggled at something he said though going by the man’s slightly confused expression he had not tried to make fun. The two disappeared towards the old smithy and Miley darted out from his alley and continued down the larger street until he came to the empty markets place where he stole one of the torches lightning up the place.

A few carts were left behind and he inspected every single one of them until he chose one that was so damaged that he doubted anyone would miss it. He made sure no one was around to see him as he moved the cart until it was positioned in the middle of the street and turned it on the side. He gathered a bit of the dirty straw that covered most of the street and placed it beside the cart together with a few pieces of dried wood. All the while he kept an ear out for any steps, but the other guards would not be patrolling for another hour and would be focusing on the outer walls until the last taverns had closed for curfew an hour before midnight, which let him work undisturbed until he was satisfied with his result.

He repeated the process with a pile of old crates a few streets down and again with an empty barrel. When he had finally finished it was only a few minutes until the bell would ring and he hurried back to the cart and lowered his torch until the flames caught hold on the dry straws. He waited until he was sure that the flames spread to the cart too, before running to his two other piles, equally setting them on fire. At the time he was finished he could hear shouting as the guard discovered the fires and tried to extinguish the flames while simultaneously find the culprit.

The shouting increased when they discovered the other two fires and Miley made sure that he wasn’t seen as he hid his cloak, before stepping out of hiding, now only donning the standard uniform of Camelot’s guards to join the others in their search of the arsonist.

~o~o~o~

“Where’s Lancelot?”

The young guard looked confused and slightly scared, and Arthur had to admit that his expression perhaps wasn’t the friendliest or most patient one after looking for the missing guard for almost an hour.

 “Lancelot, sire?” The guard’s voice was too high. The prince sighed; just what he needed; another panicked guard, didn’t Camelot hire any decent men at all?

“Yes, _Lancelot_ , he is in your battalion, you should both be making your rounds in a few minutes.”

The guard just shook his head, his eyes were wide enough to be in danger of falling out. Arthur gave up with another sigh and walked out of the barracks.

No one really appeared to know Lancelot although the man had been in Camelot for a little more than two weeks, not even his closest colleagues. A good part of the days had been spent on the trip to Littleton, but somehow Arthur would have thought a man like Lancelot would have got a few friends in the city already.

The prince shouldn’t have been looking for the guard in the first place, but with the Earl Marshall** ill, the quartermaster otherwise occupied and the officers in a meeting with the King, he had taken the job of informing Lancelot of their upcoming hunting trip himself.

Maybe he was still a little wary of the man.

He decided to try the castle again on the slim chance that the guard had decided to visit Gaius, yet he only managed to walk a few streets when the man in question walked towards him from the opposite direction. From the upper town; where Lancelot shouldn’t have had any business, and not at all when he was about to walk his rounds.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and was about to call the man to him, when shouting could be heard and a soldier came running from the same direction that Lancelot just came from. “Fire! Fire!” He gasped and waved in the other direction and both Arthur and Lancelot began to run.

He saw the scared crowd of townspeople before he saw the fire. A small child was crying in fear somewhere close, his cries cut through the murmur of the bystanders and it took a while before Arthur found out why no one was trying to extinguish the flames; there was a bonfire in the street. Or; he thought it was a bonfire until he saw that the lumber was in fact a cart, though he couldn’t find out how such an accident could happen.

Arthur pushed through the crowd to get a closer look. The guards had managed to create a safe circle around the fire and were currently douching the flames in buckets of water. He heard the commotion as two smaller fires where put out close by, and soon the makeshift bonfire was beaten down too. He kneeled by the wet aches, which were still smoking from some places where the dying embers still glowed under the charred wood. He carefully poked one of the pieces; it didn’t come from the cart, but had been placed there additionally; like kindling. This had been done deliberate.

He stood up and spotted the closest guard. “You!” He called and waved the man to him.

“My lord.” The guard gave a small bow and looked the prince in the eyes. Two shades of blue glinted in the light of the torches.

“What’s your name, soldier,” Arthur asked, because the man didn’t hold himself like a mere guard, but as a seasoned warrior. The man regarded him for a short time as if he read the prince just as much as Arthur was reading him.

At last he answered. “Miley.”

Arthur nodded and ordered, “Take a few men and scout the city; I want the culprit found before he hurts someone. There must be more to this.”

Miley gave a small bow in confirmation and waved for a couple of guards standing nearby to join him and began barking orders for them to strategically search the upper – and lower city and guide the bystanders back to their home. Arthur didn’t think they would find anything, but he was glad to give the responsibility to someone else so he could focus on the problem. His father might think that by killing Boda he had solved all their problems, yet Arthur worried that it had only been a small part of a bigger picture and that this was the enemy’s next step.

His thought went back to Lancelot and he couldn’t completely dismiss the idea. He would have some of his knights keep an eye on him. This needed to be solved before their concerns grew into real bonfires.

~o~o~o~

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief when the warning bells started to peal after a few minutes. He had stayed in his room until the second bell rang, as Miley had said, and had managed to walk all the way to the Prince’s chambers without having to backtrack more than ones, when he had mistaken a right turn for a left, now he had only waited for Miley doing his part to cause a distraction or otherwise help him get past the guards permanently stationed in the corridor.

Last time there had only been two; now there were at least seven. Merlin couldn’t think of the reason behind this; shouldn’t there have been more guards when the Prince had been sick? Yet, it had been strangely convenient for him, just as it had been convenient that no one had asked about the Prince’s sudden recovery.

His thoughts were interrupted when the warning bells alerted the guards in the corridor and four of them sprinted towards him. He didn’t have the time to hide anywhere and pressed his back against the wall. The guards didn’t look in his direction as they made for the courtyard, and he returned to looking around the corner to the remaining three men.

The guards were talking to themselves, probably wondering about the commotion; however they didn’t leave their post, much to Merlin’s disappointment. He took a deep breath and focused on letting his magic fill him until it resided just beneath his skin, then he reach out with it towards the guards and whispered, “Swefe nu.” The spell Miley had taught him the night before worked and the guards collapsed on the floor with a thud, fast asleep. He made sure no one else would come along and extinguished the torches to be on the safe side, before he hurried to the Prince’s chamber and listened at the door; if Arthur was still there then he would rethink his whole approach to the task.

Merlin couldn’t hear anything and hoped this meant that the chamber was empty. It would only be so long until someone would discover him, and he had no idea when the guards would wake up again either, and he made therefore the swift decision to enter regardless of the risk.

He grasped the doorknob and pushed; it didn’t give; locked, of course. They had thought as much and he was prepared.

“Tóspringe.” The door sprang open and he quickly stepped inside. The carved oak desk drew his immediate attention and he walked around it until he found the drawers.

They had at first been worried that the Prince would carry the key around his neck, but Miley had bribed one of the kitchen maids, who knew the maid sweeping the Prince’s fireplace, and had found out that this only applied at night. How Miley even had had the time to find the maid, Merlin didn’t know and he just hoped that it wouldn’t get anyone of them in trouble.

He used the spell again to unlock the biggest of the drawers and rummaged around between the few parchments hidden there until he found the right one. He had to remove several other parchments from the table before he found a blank one, and placed the two chosen pieces beside each other. The map was sparse on details, with only a few of the corridors and tunnels drawn on it, and Merlin doubted that all the hidden entrances were actually there, he didn’t think Uther would keep such an important piece of paper, even if the King didn’t count on intruders having magic in a kingdom such as Camelot; the King of Camelot was too paranoid for that; but this would have to do. He placed his hands above the parchments and spoke the spell that he had practiced for hours under the guidance of Miley, he tried to make the words sound as clearly as possible to be sure he didn’t get them wrong. “Icuis bisan awritan giedd.”

Ink appeared on the formerly blank parchment and slowly spread until he had a perfect replica of the map. He carefully placed the original back in the drawer and locked it with a whispered, “Behæpse fæst,” and a soft click.

Merlin locked the chamber door behind him too and smiled at how easy it had been for him to break into a place that outwardly seemed so heavily guarded. He had only walked two steps down the dark corridor, before he wished he hadn’t hexed himself like that.

“Halt! Stay where you are, in the name of the King!”

Merlin recognised Sir Leon’s voice, but didn’t heed the order as he sprinted down the corridor with the valuable parchment clutched close to his chest. The knight followed him and stayed right at his heels. Though the knight had to carry more weight, Merlin didn’t know the corridors very well, and every time he turned a corner the knight appeared to get closer. He knew he couldn’t keep going or he would be caught, he needed to find a way out.

Like some higher force finally decided to help him, he found a small alcove where he could hide until the knight ran past. He went back the way he came and used the few extra seconds the manoeuvre had gotten him to take a deep breath and take a look on his stolen map. If the information was true, there should be a hidden alcove behind one of the tapestries by the council chambers that would lead him directly to the kitchen, but he would have to find the way to the council chambers first. He heard as the knight returned to his pursuit, and could hear him muttering something between his gasps for air, had it been anyone else Merlin would think that he was cursing.

The game of cat and mouse continued down another few corridors, until Merlin finally found one that he recognised and he changed his path so it fit with the route to his intended destination. He prayed that the map was right for the corridor by the council chambers was a dead end, and he hoped he wouldn’t be forced to use magic to escape; for both their sakes. Not only did he know Leon from their trip to Littleton, but also his lessons in riding, which the knight had taught, had made Merlin start to consider him as a friend, or as close to a friend that he could be everything considered.

When he reached the tapestry his legs were burning and his breaths came in short bursts. He opened the hidden door and locked it again behind him, before leaning back against it and closing his eyes. He heard the knight stop before the entrance, before moving the tapestry and try the door. Merlin held his breath, but the door stayed locked. The knight stepped away, and Merlin became suddenly aware of that if the knight knew of the entrance, then Leon knew where it ended too.

He crawled through the passage and arrived at the kitchens before the knight, where he could use the backdoor, which led him into the castle garden and further towards the upper town. He didn’t calm down before he arrived back to his own room more than an hour later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Known as St John’s worth today  
> ** No historical accurate position, which I know of, fits into the world BBC created here, but this is probably closer than the quartermaster, who is in charge of the supplies. According to what I found, the Earl Marshall was in charge of the stables, horses and the code of chivalry.
> 
> Words:  
> Tóspringe: open quickly  
> Behæpse fæst: Fasten a closed door (lock door)  
> Swefe nu: sleep now  
> Icuis bisan awritan giedd: For us, I swiftly copy the written letter/words


	18. Fly away

**Chapter 16 – Fly away**

It was still night when he was woken again, this time by voices whispering in his ears. Most of them where too soft for him to understand, but one stood out from the others, clear as if its owner was right beside him. _Emrys_ , it whispered, and Merlin was reminded of the dragon that resided under the castle yet they didn’t sound alike at all. This one was soft and brittle, like old parchment yet with a firm undertone that reminded Merlin more of a bubbling spring than a trickling stream; neither seemed dangerous until you discovered the hidden river under the first, which gave him a feeling that the fragile part might be misleading.

 _Emrys_ , she whispered again; she, because he was sure now that the voice was female.

 _Hello?_ He tried to ask as he had done with the dragon. The voice didn’t answer for such a long time Merlin began to fear it had disappeared like it had done the other times.

_I see Kilgharrah succeeded. Good, then the time is nearly upon us. When His shackles have shattered you must come, Emrys. It is time you learnt to walk your chosen path like your ancestors walked theirs before you._

Like the dragon under the castle; the presence was gone before Merlin managed to formulate an answer.

~o~o~o~

“I told you it was too rash!” Arthur growled when he burst into the King’s chambers. “Executing him before we could question him brought us nothing! The real danger is still out there!”

The King continued to slowly cut his sausage. “Nonsense. He had to be dealt with before Cenred could formulate a plan to free him.”

“It left us blind!”

The King finally lifted his gaze from his breakfast. His expression was stern and his granite-coloured eyes flashed briefly with anger. He pointed his knife at Arthur. “Watch your tongue, Arthur. These fires were caused by arsonists, not spies; they will be caught and punished accordingly.”

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to calm down his burning anger that made him want to shout at his father for being so close-minded. It would be no use if he ended up getting stuck in his room like an insolent child.

“Sir Leon reported to have chased an unknown intruder at the time the fires were ignited. We think they might have been a distraction and the intruder was the real threat.”

Arthur watched as Uther chewed and seemed to think the statement. The king reached for his gobbled and swallowed a sip of thin wine. “Or it could have been a kitchen boy sneaking home from another’s bed.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, but didn’t let anything show in his voice. “He was caught by my chambers.”

“Is anything missing?”

“The door was still locked.”

“There you go then.”

The King waved him away, but Arthur didn’t leave.

“We still need to search for the man Boda was meeting, if we don’t –“ Arthur continued until Uther slammed his hand down on the table, making the utensils clatter and rattle.

“Arthur! That’s enough!” The King had stood up from his seat, and though Arthur was a few inches taller the King towered over him. “You will go and report to the Quartermaster and ask how the grain supply is holding and how much we expect to arrive. Nothing else.”

There were only so many reasons to order extra grain _after_ the harvest had already been collected.

“You’re preparing for siege?” It wasn’t really a question. All his anger was gone and it left him with an emptiness that fell heavily on his shoulders. Fear was crawling at the edge of his consciousness but he swatted it away.

“Cenred has been itching for war with Camelot since he took the throne,” The King admitted. 

Arthur took a step forwards. “So you _do_ think they were up to something yesterday.”

The King looked disapproving at him, until Arthur took a step back again. “I do not think; I know. Last night does not matter, because Cenred had already made his move months ago.”

Arthur huffed when the King didn’t continue, and thereby forced Arthur to keep asking. The prince had never understood why Uther needed to use such political strategies against him; his own son.

“How?” He forced out in a somewhat neutral tone. The King didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

“The last few events are just confirmation on what I have heard in the reports from the border. Lord Cenwig of Harlan writes of daily skirmishes with his paroles and how the border villages are being plundered by enemy soldiers.”

The King sat down again and picked at some light bread, but Arthur was already halfway across the space between him and the table.

There was a knock on the door before the discussion could continue and the King called for them to enter. A servant walked in and stopped short when he noticed the prince in the room. “I-I’m sorry my lords. I will come back later,” the servant stuttered and bowed.

The King looked once at his son then back at the servant. “No please, proceed. We were done here either way.”

Arthur nodded, though forced, and gave his father a shallow bow before leaving the room. He promised himself to look further into the matter. It was probably already too late for the villagers, but if they were going to be under siege from Cenred’s army the citizens were the next to suffer. He needed to make sure his people were safe first. Then he would find a way to win the war.

~o~o~o~

The sun’s rays held no warmth and the wind smelled of snow as Arthur strode through the streets and inspected the soldiers as they carried provisions and weapons around. The citizens walked among the warriors, determined to do their own preparations for the cold season as well as the war though they couldn’t do much about the latter. This was the military’s job.

The walls needed to be fortified, the siege tunnels needed to be inspected and either blocked or cleared; so they could be used by the citizens should, God forbid it, the walls crumble and Camelot fall to the greedy king.

He had already been by the Quartermaster and with the new stores they would be able to feed the city for a month, three if the provisions were rationed. Their main concerns would be medicine and fresh water; Camelot’s water source came from a underground spring; if the enemy found it and tainted the water the consequences would be catastrophic. He had ordered the surrounding tunnels to be blocked, yet he couldn’t stop worrying the mole still hiding somewhere in the city. Which was his main reason for not helping with the preparations himself; he needed to act on his suspicions now before it could lead to anything worse than burning crates.

Arthur would never forgive himself if he didn’t.

Like the last time Lancelot showed himself to be a hard man to find. The sun already stood high on the sky, and Arthur would need to return to the castle in less than an hour for another council meeting.

He grumbled under his breath and decided he would have to find the soldier after lunch, maybe then he would still have the time for a short visit. He turned the corner towards the castle; sure he would run into Guinevere if he took the longer route past the kitchens where she would be on her way to collecting Morgana’s lunch.

Arthur was already smiling at the prospect of seeing her eyes light up with happiness during their short conversations; which was why he was completely unprepared for the sight of Lancelot standing beside in the next corridor. The soldier was currently holding a basket with laundry, and was saying something that had made Guinevere laugh.

The prince stopped smiling at once.

Lancelot must have heard him come for he looked up, and bowed at once when he saw who it was. Arthur made sure he didn’t miss a single step or do anything else to show the how he was boiling on the inside.

“My lord.”

Arthur ignored the soldier's greeting and nodded at Guinevere instead. The maid had stopped laughing and was looking between the two men. The prince pretended to notice Lancelot for the first time.

“Ah, Lancelot, just the man I was looking for,” he said and gave Lancelot the best smile he could manage at the moment. It felt terrible forced even to him.

Lancelot looked a little confused. “My lord?”

Arthur had not originally planned to have the conversation in public, but something made him go through with it regardless.

“You see, Lancelot,” Arthur continued, the name tasted sourly on his tongue. “The good Marshall was wondering why you weren’t on your post last night when the bells rang. I’m sure you know that we cannot admit any kind of tardiness in our ranks, not even from a man who saved the Prince’s life.”

The Earl Marshall hadn’t said anything at all; Lancelot hadn’t been on duty yet, and everything had been rather hectic afterwards; not even Arthur had been sure if Lancelot had actually been helping putting out the fire; but Arthur enjoyed the look of horror that flashed through the soldier’s eyes for a short moment.

“I told the Marshall that I was sure you had a good explanation.” The Prince gave Lancelot another false smile.

The soldier looked down in shame. “I’m sorry, my lord. I have abused your trust and I have failed my responsibility to protect Camelot and her people. There’s no excuse that could make such a careless act right. I will take whatever punishment you deem fit.”

Arthur frowned, suddenly feeling wrong-footed. He had expected protests, maybe even anger at the unfair treatment, had actually hoped for it; this selflessly action made him feel both wary and humbled, yet it didn’t change that it still made Lancelot a suspect. He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said and this time he meant it. “I will have to take you in for questioning regarding the fires last night.”

Lancelot nodded in understanding and took a step towards the prince.

“He was with me.”

Both men looked up at Guinevere. She blushed a bit at the attention, but then she straightened her back and glared at them, daring the men to come with any objections.

Arthur cleared his throat. “And why exactly was he with you and not on his way to his shift?” The accusation could clearly be heard in his tone again.

Guinevere’s glare made Arthur cringe at his own words. He had only seen her angry a few times and knew when she pulled that face he was truly in trouble, Crown Prince or not, and should hurry up and apologize if he wanted to keep his head.

“If you must know; he escorted me home. It had become dark and Lancelot was kind enough to offer his protection as some of the workers sometimes gets a little rough at this hour; a gesture I very much appreciated, _my lord_.”

Arthur nodded. He could see true disappointment in Guinevere’s eyes and wanted to say something to explain why he had to act like an arrogant pillock, would have said something had it not been for Lancelot standing at her site or the obvious risk of getting overheard. Instead he fell back to his old routines, something he hadn’t done since before he came of age and fought in his first real war.

“Well then Lancelot; you might not have had anything to do with the fires, yet you still neglected your duties. You should be happy I’m not letting you stay in the dungeon for the night. A few hours in the stocks might teach you not to be as careless the next time,” Arthur said and turned around so he didn’t have to look Guinevere in the eyes again.

Now he would have to fight to get back in her good graces, he knew, yet he didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth; had it been Uther who had even suspected Lancelot of slacking his duties he would have been stripped of his duties and probably whipped. A few nights in the dungeon would have been nothing in comparison, but if they were truly going to get attacked they would need all the help they could get.

And whatever hard feelings Arthur had against the man couldn’t undermine that Lancelot was a damn good swordsman.

The young man picked at the corner of the seal, before snorting and used the hand holding the saddle to get a better grip on the role of parchment. His horse stepped to the side and shook its mane, clearly displeased at the rider’s faulty posture.

~o~o~o~

“It’s all there,” Miley said.

The man raised his head and narrowed his small eyes, which were nearly hidden under his dirty red hair. His face reminded Miley of a fox, and if his first impression was anything to go by; the new messenger acted like one too. He didn’t like him, and it seemed to be mutual if the man’s sneer was anything to go by. Miley wasn’t very good at making people like him, though it might be because he never bothered to try.

Well that wasn’t the complete true either.

The messenger began to pick at the parchments again. The very important parchments, which not only included this week’s report, but also two very valuable maps; if the man ended up breaking the seal …

“If the King is not satisfied; I will be the one to fall not you,” Miley said, yet the man still didn’t look convinced, and Miley was beginning to get tired of the whole thing. “Now get going; if we are caught I _will_ let you take the blame.”

The messenger shot him another glare, but proved that there truly was more bark than bite in him when he hid the message in an inner pocket and tightened his grip on the bridle. Maybe Miley would get to appreciate this messenger after all; he wasn’t near as talkative as Boda had been.

As if he had heard the knight’s thoughts, the messenger chose that moment to speak for the first time. “From the King.” His voice was rough with disuse and much too old for a man who could barely be out of his teens. The messenger reached out to Miley and let a small scrap of parchment into his hands.

Miley nodded once and the messenger took it as his dismissal, as he pressed his heals into the side of his horse and galloped away without another word.

The knight stood for a long time and stared at the King’s seal, before he took a deep breath and broke the red speck of wax. He had to read it twice before he was convinced that he hadn’t misread it. Then he smiled.

If he played this right, the King might very well just have signed his own death sentence.

 ~o~o~o~

A steady, _drip, drip,_ could be heard as the water fell down from the dank roof of the underground passage. The drops formed small rivulets when they hit the ground and slowly gnawed into the stone, and Miley had to step around several such streams before he arrived at the cave. He could barely make out the glow from torches above him, which showed the way into the dungeon and thereby the castle.

The symphony coming from the drops of water was interrupted by a quiet clatter of metal against metal and then a heavy thump when something big landed above him.

“Imagine my surprise when a felt a dead man’s walking into the castle.”

The knight slowly looked up at the golden giant above him. The dragon was snarling and fire danced in its eyes however Miley felt no fear, only shame. He could no longer hold the creature's gaze and dropped his eyes to his boots. The dragon growled.

“For twenty years I have been rotting in this cave, hoping that Uther would stray down here so I could burn him to crisp for what he did, and all the while _you_ –“

“I was barely six summers old, Kilgharrah,” the knight interrupted, but said no more in his defence. There were nothing else to say; after all, it had been a long time since he had been a child.

The dragon’s gaze burned him as much as its breath.

“Why did you come back?” The dragon asked. Had Miley not known any better, the creature nearly sounded human.

“I wouldn’t have, but destiny is funny that way.”

He unsheltered his sword and raised it until it glinted in the dull firelight. The runes engraved into it hummed as its master’s magic touched it. The blade had been his father’s and his father’s before him. Sóþfæder, his father had called it; ‘father of truth,’ yet the only truth it had found until then, had been the mortality of man.

“You know,” Miley said at last when the dripping had begun to make his head throb. “Uther didn’t win. He never will. Men like him; king’s and beggars alike; they have already lost. I have come to see this now.” He walked towards the stone where the chain was attached. The metal moved a bit when the dragon turned around to keep him in its sight, yet the beast kept quiet and let the knight speak. “One day I’ll show them this too.”

He raised the sword high above his head.

“Ic bebeode þisne sweord þæt hé forcierfe þá bende þæra dracan. Un clýse!”

The blade cut through metal, and the dragon roared in victory as the chain shattered as its spell was broken. The sound followed it all the way into the freedom of the dark sky.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cenwig: Brave warrior  
> Harlan: Land with hares  
> Sóþfæder: father of truth, father of justice  
> Ic bebeode þisne sweord þæt hé forcierfe þá bende þæra dracan. Un clýse: I command this sword to cut the chains of the dragon. Open


	19. A quest for salvation

**Chapter 17 – A quest for salvation**

Books were strewn across the floor without any visible order. Lose parchments fluttered in a breeze coming through an open window; followed closely by a greeting from the upcoming winter; tiny white flakes which smelted to small puddles around the pages.

Eadric sat in a red velvet chair, its legs were carved to look like dragons, and their heads were roaring at the lit fireplace. The man ran a hand across the armrest, and barely noticed as the snowflakes grew in size and reached out to him, until one of them flew across the room and created a wet mark when it landed on the page he was currently reading. He cursed under his breath and tried in vain to dry it off; the stain stayed and darkened some of the words.

They were all utterly useless. How could he have been so stupid? But it didn’t matter; he would just have to rethink his original plan. He skimmed the sheet one last time, yet not even magic could chance the content of the truth, and so he had no more use for it. A small flick of the wrist and the book landed in the flames. They hissed in delight and began to greedily devour the old knowledge.

He had been wrong; his control of the bracelets did not get any stronger, though he had told the King as much; and it wouldn’t get any better as long as he was this far from the warlock. The amount of magic needed to control the bracelets across such a long distance demanded more energy than it was worth.

A quiet scratching distracted him and made him look back over his shoulder; on the windowsill sat a raven, its black button-like eyes shimmered in the firelight as it stared back at him. It made a hoarse sound and lifted its wing so a small leather container could be seen dangling from its leg. The container was barely the size of his little finger; just big enough to carry state secrets safely across the kingdom.

The man reached for the container and fished out the small slip of paper inside. He growled in anger. How could the King of Essetir be so stupid as to set the dragon free? – The beast was just as likely to turn on them if they attempted to take Camelot now. No, Camelot was long lost. 

It was time he took matters in his own hands.

Starting with getting rid of that fool of a sorcerer, Miley; the man had been teaching the warlock spells of all things; just what he needed. He guessed it wouldn’t matter now; he just needed the last few details, then he would be on his way to take down a kingdom.

~o~o~o~

Camelot was burning. There were no other words for it. For three days the dragon had made it rain flames both day and night; giving the knights and citizens barely a few hours of rest between attacks. The outer walls were crumbling piece by piece and the castle was now threatening to follow. There was no time to rebuild; barely time to carry the wounded inside.

Merlin was following Gaius around the temporary infirmary that had been set up in the Great Hall. Rows upon rows of improvised straw beds were occupied by knights and merchants alike; for once equal in their pain.

They sewed wounds and treated burns, which like Merlin had never seen before, but was sure to meet again in his darker dreams. Clean water was sparse, as it was now life-threatening to go outside to the well, and the King had the underground spring heavily guarded. They could boil the water, but in the end, more people were threatened by infections and dehydration than the original injury. Half of them were already developing fevers, and Gaius could only shake his head and apply some honey and different tinctures of chamomile and other herbs; yet in the long run many wouldn’t survive regardless if their wounds weren’t properly cleaned.

He was helping Gaius with holding a patient down while the physician removed some of the dead skin from a nasty burn on the man’s left hand. Merlin grimaced at the smell and was glad that Gaius, after casting one glance at the warlock’s shaking hands, had deemed the task to difficult yet for his apprentice and told him to make sure to keep the man from moving and thereby hurting himself more.

The physician was just instructing Merlin how to bind the wound properly, when the King walked into the room followed by Sirs Leon and Cadmon. The maids and town healers stopped working and bowed to the King as he passed them, and their gazes followed him until he stopped at their newest patient’s feet.

“Gaius,” the King said in a low voice not meant to be overheard. He eyed Merlin and the patient, who was moaning in his drugged state as Merlin dabbed is brow with a wetted cloth. The King gestured to the side. “If I could have a quick work?”

Gaius tightened the bandage and made sure it wouldn’t come undone, before following the King to a corner of the room. The knights positioned themselves with their backs to their sovereign and physician so they could make sure no one listened in.

Merlin shot the king and his mentor a look from time to time both to make sure that what looked like a rather heated discussion didn’t turn into anything else and to ease some of his own curiosity regarding what topic the King wanted to discuss right away when the physician was clearly needed elsewhere.

When Gaius returned Merlin had already finished giving the man with the burned hand the necessary potions and had moved to the next patient; a young girl who had broken a rib when a piece of the wall had fallen down on her. She had managed to jump away from most of it, but had still received a massive bruise which covered half her back and her left side and Merlin was worried she might have broken her collar bone too.

The physician looked pale and his normally steady hands had begun to shake as badly as Merlin’s. Merlin tried to guide him towards a chair, but the physician waved him away and began to prod the girl’s shoulder while reassuring the girl that she would be alright and could return to her mother as soon as he had finished if she promised to stay in bed until he said otherwise. The girl nodded and Gaius waved for Merlin to come and help him.

The warlock decided it would be better to ask Gaius about the conversation later; there were things more important than his own curiosity.

~o~o~o~

“Are they ready?” Merlin nodded at the prince. They all stood half hidden at the edge of the forest, all packed with several days’ worth of provisions and clad in their travelling clothes. The knights and prince only wore the minimum of armour, which consisted of chainmail and some leather, while Merlin had brought the old green cloak that Gaius had given him what felt like years ago. No one wore anything that could be associated with Camelot.

The warlock gave Aethelfled a few pats on the neck until she shook her mane and stamped a foot to show her eagerness to get going. Merlin smiled at her and looked on as the prince and the knights began to mount, before he followed.

In the end Merlin never got to ask Gaius about his conversation with Uther, instead he had been woken the next morning by Lancelot, who led him to the Prince’s chambers. There they had met not only the Prince, but his closest knights as well. Arthur had sat down by his table, which was heavily packed with bowls and plates, and then proceeded to invite them all to breakfast. To say that Merlin was shocked was and understatement, but neither of the knights as much as batted an eye at the Prince’s complete disregard for social standings and normal procedures. Merlin might have gotten more relaxed around the others during the last few weeks’ quests, but joking around a shared pot of stew in the middle of the forest and this more official meal seemed very far from each other. Only Lancelot seemed as hesitant as Merlin to join the others, yet they both had to give in when the Prince himself gestured for them to dig in, though when Merlin looked up a little later the Prince was staring at Lancelot with cold eyes, and the warlock wondered what could possibly have happened between the two men.

Merlin was distracted when the intended topic of the whole affair was revealed, yet his unease only grew the longer they talked and the Prince’s plan was revealed.

“Now that we are all here, we should get going before father finds out that we have gone,” Arthur said and they all kicked their horses into a canter, only slowing down to a light trot when they arrived at the main road to Essetir.

“So do you really think this Balinor would be able to help?” Sir Fane asked the prince a couple of hours later.

Merlin steered his horse closer to the pair. Arthur had already told them at breakfast that his father had consulted Gaius about possible solutions regarding the dragon. According to the physician it would be near impossible to kill a magical creature as powerful as the dragon, but that he knew of a man who could help. The prince hadn’t told them much other than his father had been unwilling to let his son leave to find the man for reasons unknown, hence their stealthy departure that morning.

Merlin had listened carefully every time the man, Balinor, was mentioned, as he remembered his conversation with Miley when they first arrived at Camelot, and was eager to learn more about the man who he was sure was a dragonlord, though Arthur had not confirmed it yet.

“Hopefully, or Camelot is as good as doomed."

The prince didn't elaborate and the young knight fell back besides Lancelot, visible disappointed at the Prince's unwillingness to share, yet not questioning his choice to do so either.

Merlin bit his lip to stop himself from blurting out his own questions.

“We'll have to leave the road soon unless we want to risk running into a patrol,“ Sir Cadmon said and Sir Leon nodded in agreement.

"If we follow the Ridge of Essetir around the forest we can avoid the patrols without using much time," the knight added. Merlin looked up in shock; that ridge was only an hour’s walk from Ealdor. They could risk running into someone who would recognize him, which could blow his cover. He would have to somehow guide them away from there.

He needn’t have bothered. The prince had been quiet through the discussion, but had now seemingly come to a conclusion. “We can’t risk running into bandits by the ridge. We need to find a smaller path through the forest of Essetir and hope neither outlaws nor Cenred’s men will discover us. We should be arriving at the border before nightfall we will set up camp there and continue through the grassland in the morning."

“At least we can be certain that Odin send his men this far into Essetir,” Sir Edgar added. Arthur nodded, his grim expression was visible when he looked back at his men, and Merlin nearly felt sorry for the King of Cornwall, but only nearly.

The knights came with further suggestions regarding which path to use, yet Merlin no longer listened. Going through the forest would bring them further from Ealdor, yet there was still a small risk of Arthur wanting to stop there to get more supplies or at least sleep in a somewhat decent bed. And if Merlin had to be completely honest then he missed home. Will would probably still be there; maybe even taking care of their house too now that it was empty.

He must be wondering where they went.

Maybe he had already forgotten about them; decided they had run away in the night or caught by a Camelot patrol, which had crossed the border. It was known to have happened before.

Merlin hoped that his friend was okay. Will might have been a bit of a hothead, but he was his first and best friend and Merlin couldn’t bear the thought of losing him too.

~o~o~o~

The rider found a small hill with a clear view of the clearing where the group had set up camp. A fire was already burning in their midst, and their voices and laughter drifted with the wind towards the man on the hill. The man’s horse neighed quietly and the rider shushed her and gave her a small pat before leading her back into the forest where more riders were gathered.

“We will set up camp here and wait for them to continue. No one is to engage them yet, by the King’s orders they are to be detained not killed, and we need them elsewhere to do that.”

None of the soldiers protested, yet their disgruntled gazes burned him when he turned away. Not that they mattered; there was a lot more at stake than a few essetirian soldiers’ good will.


	20. Strangers are likely to stick around

**Chapter 18 – Strangers are likely to stick around**

When they saw the lanterns from the village Merlin had stopped shivering a long time ago and his fingers were so numb that the only reason to why he still held onto the reins of his horse was that he was no longer able to move his fingers.

Somehow he manged to slide from the saddle without keeling over and slithered through the main street of Engerd to the village's only tavern. With each step he took his feet were sucked into the layer of mud which had been created by the resent downpour that they had rode through the better part of the day. His boots were, like the rest of his clothes, soaked through and now the mud had an easy passage through the new holes to his toes.

He had no energy left to lift his gaze and was surprised when he hit a wall of warmth for the first time since he crawled out from his bedroll that morning. Their group was guided to one corner pleasantly close to the open fireplace and Arthur wasted no time before ordering a pot of hot stew and a jug of ale for them to share. Following the knights' example Merlin abandoned his jacket and boots by the fire and squeezed together on the bench between Lancelot and Fane. The knights had kept quiet until then, probably as tired as Merlin though they wouldn't admit it, but now the jokes and laughter came back as the fire slowly thawed their bodies from their frozen state.

Merlin would have thought that the prince would have felt uncomfortable in the small tavern which smelled of old ale and where there were more than one suspicious stain on the floor, yet the last few months had taught the warlock that the prince appreciated these trips to places where few recognized him and even fewer expected him to act like an educated noble.

The prince nursed his own mug of golden liquid, a small smile gracing his lips, while he listened to his men joke with each other. He met Merlin's gaze and gave him a small nod before turning back to his hushed conversation with sir Cadmon and Leon.

Merlin looked down in his own cup, suddenly not as warm and relaxed as before. The prince and knights trusted him; he could see that in the way they included him in their conversations even though he was of a much lower station. It was a trust the prince didn't even have in Lancelot, if the looks him and the knights sometimes sent the soldier was anything to go by, yet Merlin was the one who deserved the mistrust.

The rest of their meal he tried to ignore the feeling of foreboding that was making it hard for him to swallow his food, and he ended up drinking just enough to not be called sober anymore. He had no more energy left to spend, and barely registered when Edgar led a stranger to their table. Lancelot had disappeared some time earlier and Fane looked even drunker than Merlin, so when the prince and the remaining knights gathered around the man, Merlin decided it was the right time for him to retire to bed.

~o~o~o~

"I'll say it again. You're all not right in the head; travelling through that cursed forest? Nah, I've no death wish!" The forester* said and shook his head. He straightened his fur coat and pressed his lips together as he met their eyes one after the other. "I can lead you to the Cromwell; that's on the edge of my grounds, but you'll have to find your own way from there."

Arthur nodded in agreement though he would have liked it better if the man had showed him the whole way to Balinor's home. Yet he couldn't blame the man from being afraid; no one else in the village would even go half of the way that he had suggested.

It had been obvious from the moment they arrived in the tavern that the villagers were wary of strangers, and a bit of careful digging here and there from sir Edgar had revealed the reason; apparently a slave trader had made camp in the Forest of Merendra, no more than an hour's walk from the village, and now even the forester didn't dare venture to far into the forest. People had disappeared from nearby towns and some had reported to have seen their cages. Sometimes the forester only found an empty camp, where an unfortunate traveller had been overwhelmed by the gang.

Edgar had convinced the forester to meet them all by the entrance to the village an hour after dawn to discuss a possible escort, but now that Arthur had told the man exactly where they were going, it would seem like they would have to find the place by themselves. They had left their horses by the inn; the animals couldn't continue on the small deer tracks they would be using from now on, and the forester was their only way to be sure they wouldn't take a wrong turn and end up in the middle of the forest without supplies for more than a few days.

The man had at least been able to confirm that Balinor lived in a cave nearby; somewhere in the forest between the village and the Feorre Mountains, in the outskirts of what was now the slave trader's territory.

"Alright," the prince said at last, "to the Cromwell then, and then continue to the east?"

The forester nodded. "You follow the river east until you come to the Marlow. It's a clearing with a dead oak. We call it the Witch's tree; keeps the children from running too far and strange things do happen there."

Arthur and the others shifted a bit at the mention of something possibly related to magic, and Arthur send a quick look back at his men to be sure no one said a word. He needn't have bothered; the faces of his knights were more or less as if they were carved in stone, only Edgar was frowning slightly. Neither Lancelot nor Merlin seemed all that bothered with the man's choice of words, yet neither of them were from the heart of the kingdom so that was understandable.

"And when we get to the Marlow?" Arthur asked to force the man to change the topic while consciously ignoring the superstitious talk of the man.

"Turn down at the first stream on your left hand and follow it until you end by the cave."

Arthur nodded his thanks and gestured for the forester to lead the way. It was better to know all the way to the cave before they left, so if something happened on the way they would not be running around in the forest blind.

They arrived by the Cromwell River an hour later and the forester bit them farewell as he continued on his own route. The water sparkled slightly in the sun and for a moment it made the group miss the warm breezes of summer.

"Will your water skins and take a break, we can't rest when we have first wandered into the slavers territory," Arthur ordered. The last words felt wrong in his mouth; had this been in Camelot the slavers would have never been allowed to roam free. He would gladly have led the hunt for them himself. This time they had other goals though, and no way near the force to take on an armed group of slavers.

Arthur was distracted for a moment when Merlin nearly tripped over a stone on the shore and nearly fell headfirst into the river. The young man managed to catch himself in time, but his face heated up in embarrassment as Arthur and the knights laughed. "No need to hurry with the bath, Merlin. I heard Gaius muttering about a dirty leech tank before we left, which will probably be waiting for you to get back," Sir Edgar said with a serious expression kept firmly in place.

"Ha ha, very funny," Merlin said while he grimaced in disgust.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," the knights replied. He watched the servant with wide, innocent eyes. The other knights chuckled softly and the prince shook his head with a small smile gracing his lips.

The knights had really warmed up to the physician's assistant, and teased him like they would any other younger comrade. The assistant never seemed put out; instead he seemed to enjoy the occasional banter and sometimes even replied with a witty remark to the delight of Sir Edgar and Fane who were the most outgoing of the group. Cadmon usually gave them a disapproving look, acting like the substitute father of the group, though he never stopped them and his eyes where always warm and filled with mirth. Sir Leon was the knight that kept closest to protocol, though even he had become more relaxed towards both Merlin and Lancelot, and was much to honourable to ever say a disrespectful word about anyone either way.

Arthur watched as Merlin finished filling his own water skin before muttering something under his breath and began to walk away from their clearing. "We will be leaving within the next few minutes!" Arthur shouted after him, and the younger man turned to give the prince a small nod to show he understood, before he turned back around and disappeared behind the trees.

~o~o~o~

Miley rested against a young birch when Merlin stumbled into his vision. The knight had had reservations about calling the warlock like this, afraid that the assassin would be listening in and work out the truths about him, but now the time had come for him to act. There was no place for second thoughts. Or for keeping secrets.

The young warlock bent his back to rest his hands on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. Their break must be a short run, if he had decided he needed to run all the way.

"Since when can you speak into people's head?"

Miley sighed. He knew that question would come, but they really didn't have the time. The knight looked in the direction wherefrom Merlin had come. Hopefully the prince wouldn't come looking; they would have to make this quick.

"Since I learnt it from the druids, but-"

The younger warlock didn't let him continue. "You have been by the druids?"

"Yes, I have; a long time ago, but that is really not what I wanted to talk with you about." And Miley really didn't want to think on that particular part of his childhood; or rather what led up to it.

Merlin didn't look happy about dropping the subject and Miley knew they would have to have a long talk after all this mess was over, yet first of all they needed to actually survive that long and for that he needed for Merlin to agree to trust him. It might not sound like much, yet he was certain Merlin didn't even call him a friend, and for him to follow the plan he had to trust the knight with more than just his own life.

"Why _have_ you called me here then? You do know that the prince and his knights are right behind me and are ready to leave in a few minutes, right?" Merlin asked and turned his head to look in the general direction of the prince's camp. He was frowning, and seemed to be listening for anyone approaching. The only sounds were of a few birds rustling the dry leaves on the ground. They were too far away to make the sounds of the knight even if you had been shouting.

Miley sighed again. There really was no way to ease him into something like this and so he chose to say it bluntly. "I guess you've heard about the local slavers?" He waited for Merlin to nod before he continued. "I have made a deal with their leader, Jarl; he will capture your group and keep you until they can hand you over to my own men. The last group should be arriving in a day or two."

Merlin stared wide-eyed at him for a few moments before he seemed to catch onto what the knight had just said. "Wait what?" He said a little too loudly. Merlin caught himself and hissed the next part. "You want me to set up an ambush with a slave trader. And then what? Trust them to not sell us before your men arrive?"

The leaves around them began to stir as the warlock's magic began to react to its master's anger. Miley tried to ignore it and focused on calming the younger man instead. "Don't worry. A few of my men are with the group already; they will make sure the slavers deal none of you any serious harm."

Merlin shot him a dark look that clearly indicated his thoughts on the matter. "And that should comfort me?"

"We really don't have time for comfort." Miley narrowed his eyes. He thought he had made it very clear that he didn't actually like being a part of all this, yet the warlock didn't seem to care. "This way I have a reason to _not_ drag the prince back before I can get Balinor to help about the dragon. The King doesn't know about the slavers, and he doesn't know about Balinor. _Yet_. I want this all to be over as soon as possible, so we can get back to Camelot before he realises this."

Merlin didn't say anything to that and seemed to be thinking. It really was a shame that he didn't have to explain it all properly.

"You only have to make sure the knights don't succeed in killing the slavers off before then, I'll take care of the rest." Miley took a step forwards and squeezed Merlin's shoulder, trying to give him the reassurance his words might not hold. "Now go back before they really come looking."

~o~o~o~

As it was it hadn't mattered if Merlin had waited another ten minutes to arrive back; the knights wouldn't have been able to search for him either way.

When he reached the clearing he had been met by the sights of his companions on their knees in a semi-circle around a thin man in a long fur coat. They had all been bound with rope and gagged, and their swords all lay in a stack in the corner of the clearing. The man couldn't be anyone else than the master of the slavers himself.

All around them stood the other slavers. Some of them had bleeding wounds or black eyes, and a few unmoving bodies lay on the ground, though Merlin couldn't see if they were breathing or not. It had clearly been a bloody though unfair fight; the knights would not have been subdued easily. Merlin wondered briefly if Miley had planned for him to be away from the clearing for precisely that reason.

Merlin tried to back out of the clearing before the slavers noticed him; however the leader, Jarl as Miley had called him, was already turning around. "Oh, look at that. The dog came back to its master … or is it a rat?"

The slave trader grinned at him, showing his teeth, before calling out to his men. "Take him, boys."

Two stumbling steps later and the slavers had already caught up with him. He instinctively fell back on the training in hand to hand combat he had received from the assassin, and managed to catch one with surprise as he kicked the man's legs out from under him. He gave another an elbow in the eye, yet a few months of intensive training couldn't really do much against the three other men who grabbed his arms and legs, forced him down on his knees and kept him still.

The leader came over to him and kicked him hard once on the right tight. Merlin hissed in pain, while keeping any other signs of discomfort hidden. Jarl looked disappointed at him. The slave trader's dark eyes held a glint of rage which was the only thing that made Merlin really feel true fear for the man. He didn't doubt the man knew exactly who he was, yet the warlock was sure the man didn't care much for his deal he had made with the knight; if he wanted them killed he would separate their head from their bodies with one clean cut.

Merlin truly couldn't understand what had made Miley act like he did; the knight's explanation hadn't made sense at all. Which made him think properly about _what_ Miley had said; had he really told him he would find Balinor? The knight wasn't even supposed to know about him.

It had apparently been the topic the King of Camelot had discussed with Gaius the other day, and the only other person they had told was Arthur. The prince himself didn't admit to who the man really was before earlier that morning, before they set out with the forester; there was no way for the knight to have heard them before, and if he had listened in on their conversation at the village he still wouldn't have had the time to make a deal with Jarl before they arrived. Something just didn't add up.

Jarl though was clearly concerned about other things. He shot Merlin a last glare, before dusting off his hands as if he had done all the work by himself. "Good, good," the slave trader muttered and looked around. "Enough prattling around. Throw them all into the cages and get moving!"

~o~o~o~

A small snowstorm arrived in the evening for the first time that year. The small flakes stung as they hit his bare skin and every puff of wind that made it through the nearly bare trees felt like a cold whip. Miley wished he had brought a cloak, because his leather and chainmail didn't do much to keep him from freezing. He would have to find shelter soon if he didn't want to freeze to death.

He hadn't been able to see any tracks, neither his own nor others, since the snow began to stay instead of smelting when it hit the ground, and the only way he was sure he wasn't going in circles was his south-pointer,* a very spectacular device which could have been magic, had it not lacked a magical aura.

Miley had gotten the south-pointer from an eastern merchant who had told him that it was the safest way to travel if you didn't trust the weather, and he must have spoken the truth; as the metal device had not let him down yet; not even now when the snow was becoming nearly impossible to see through.

Walking with his arms out to feel for trees in his path, Miley travelled slowly through the forest. If he had just known exactly where Balinor was, or if he had met the man before, then he would have been able to use a tracking spell instead. Alas, he would have to trust science over magic in this particular case.

Finally he arrived at a small creek. The water was frozen to ice, and the flakes had already begun to gather on top. Had he arrived a few minutes later, he would have walked across it without noticing. Now he bent down and removed his saddleback from his shoulder, so he shake of his right glove and fish his water skin out from beneath his dried meat and bread. It took him several tries to break the ice, and the water's temperature did nothing for his already cold and shivering body.

Miley filled it as quickly as he could, but before he could stand up a movement in the corner of his eye made him freeze. He tried to relax and calmly packed the skin away and pulled his glove on, while he listened to his surroundings. The wind howled slightly on its way through the trees, and somewhere a branch broke off with a loud crunch as it lost its fight against the heavy weight of the snow.

There was something in the air, something other than the snow, other than his puffs of hot breath that froze as soon as it escaped through his chapped lips. It was a soft hum that he had heard not long ago when they were still in the castle of Camelot, yet he would never have thought he would hear it out here.

A flash of red through the trees and he was holding his breath. A few braches splintered behind him and then something huge was breathing down his neck.

He turned around.

As regal a sight that the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah must have been when he ruled the skies before the Purge, not even he held a sliver of the same feeling of old magic that the creature before him did. It made him feel like the mother earth herself was standing before him, as she emitted the same old life-giving force.

Her sleek body didn't seem to be bothered by the storm, though her wings were folded carefully on her back; her head was held high and her spiked tail whipped from one side to the other, cutting down a small tree in the process. The dark red scales shone slightly even though there was no sun to make them glint; it was as if the light came from deep inside her instead from an outer source.

"Prónoia," he whispered in awe. He barely noticed the shabby man that stepped out of the trees behind her, all his focus directed on the impossible before him.

"No," the dragoness said. Her laugh was a low rumble that made the snow fall from the trees, "Once maybe, but not anymore. Now I'm simply Péleia, dear fledgling, and we have waited a long time to meet you and the young Emrys."

~o~o~o~

Being outside in a snowstorm while wandering around in the forest, miles away from any civilization, might not have been preferable, yet Arthur would have favoured that life-threatening situation to sitting in a cage while sharing a cave with seventeen slavers and five slaves. As fate would have it the prince didn't get to choose, and as luck had never really been on their side either, the last scenarie had become a reality.

Their group had been separated in three different cages, and he was now stuck together with Merlin and two strangers. Fane and Lancelot were in cage to right in the same position as them. Edgar and Cadmon were put in a cage on the other side of the cave with the last slave; Arthur could barely see them for the slavers, most of who were sitting around a campfire in the middle.

It was clear that the slavers did everything to make sure that they didn't escape; they had of cause been disarmed before they even got to the cages and now they sat shackled to an iron cage which was under constant watch. It was probably also why he was here with Merlin and not one of his knights; he had no way to plan an escape.

One of the slaves sitting beside him began to hum. The prince turned his head and glared at the man.

The slave sat in scruffy clothes and worn out boots, his brown hair was a bit too long and his face was covered in layers of dirt from the road; just like you would expect of a man who had been held in imprisonment for a long time, but his smile and relaxed stance turned that notion upside-down. You would think a slave would be submissive and afraid, yet this man just grinned wider as he caught Arthur's gaze like he knew exactly what he was doing. He probably did.

It was the third time the man had done that in the last few hours, and every time he had been stopped by their watchman pounding on the bars with his sword hilt and some threat of starvation, however the slave didn't stop. Instead he seemed to make it a game how long he could hum before the guard got tired and snapped.

Right now Arthur was the one close to snapping; he had to think of how they could get out of this mess so that they could safe Camelot and that was very hard with the slave humming the same melody for the fifth time in as many minutes.

Merlin changed his position with a wince, and Arthur felt a small wave of guilt for bringing the younger man with them. When they had first been ambushed by the slavers Arthur had hoped that the boy had seen what had happened and had managed to escape; that hope had been dashed the moment Merlin had stumbled back into the clearing and froze like a dear confronted with its hunter.

The movement had also been noticed by the cage's forth occupant; a huge man with short hair. The man's dark grey eyes were watching Merlin closely and filled with sympathy, which surprised the Prince; he would have expected desperation or resignation, even glee at the prospect of an easy target to steal some more food from; this he didn't expect at all.

The other slave hummed a bit louder.

"Would you shut up?" The prince hadn't raised his voice to not alert their guard, and the words therefore resembled a hiss more than a request. The slave ignored it.

"What? The music not up to your standards, princess?" The man goaded.

Arthur really hoped the snort he heard coming from Merlin was one of surprise and not a half-choked laugh.

He ignored them both and picked around in the straw covering the floor of the cage instead, until he held a small piece of a chicken bone in his hand. He checked if the guard was looking before sticking the bone into the lock of his shackles. A few tries later and the bone broke, and he cast it away with a sigh.

"Try this."

The prince looked up just a small object came flying with course directly at his face. He caught it more out of reflex than anything. It was a metal needle like those women used to pin their hair up with.

The slave shrugged. "It will probably work better than the bone."

"Why?" The prince frowned at the other man. Those two slaves just continued to surprise hi.

"Well for one it won't break so easily."

"No. Why are you helping us?" The glare was back, but not as heated before. Arthur was beginning to recognize the man's façade. Why give up their only opportunity to escape to two strangers?

"Four against seventeen we like those odd, don't we Percival?" The slave looked at his comrade. Percival gave a small nod and his eyes darkened. Merlin was watching the whole proceeding with a frown, and Arthur hoped he would agree to try; the prince would never force to risk his life like this, the boy would have to help willingly.

"We will need to find a way to take out the watch tonight and free my men from the other cages first. Then we can try to make a run for it," Arthur said after a short pause. There were no way they could get out on their own; they would need all the help they could get.

The slave nodded and smirked. "Sound like a plan, princess."

"Arthur." Arthur corrected and reached his shackled hand towards the slave.

The man grabbed the hand and shook it. "I'm called Gwaine."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that; the last people have more or less been introduced and the end game is nearing. Let the battle commence!
> 
> *As far as I was able to read, the forester was responsible for the lumber trade and patrolling the forest around the village, and keeping an eye out for poachers. If a criminal sought refuge in the forest the forester was responsible of gathering enough men to capture him. He was better paid than most villagers.
> 
> *The "south-pointer" is one of the first used translations for the early compass. It had been invented in China already 200 years B.C, but was first used for navigation later. That Miley would have been able to get one is unlikely, but for the sake of the story he met a merchant who he was able to convince to part with it. (I will let you decide, if "convince" and "part with" should be taken literally.)
> 
> Names:
> 
> Cromwell: Crooked stream  
> Marlow: Drained lake  
> Prónoia (perceiving beforehand, foresight, foreknowledge)  
> Péleia (dove)


	21. Revelations of the knight

**Chapter 19 – Revelations of the knight**

The middle-aged man reached out with his knife to peal another piece of meat off from the rabbit, which had been roasting over the fire. Miley chewed his own food slowly as he watched the other man. 

Balinor was not how he had imagined him. His hair might have been the same colour as Merlin’s, yet this was where the similarity ended. The man was stockier built than his son, his nose was pointed slightly down like a crow’s beak and the long unkempt hair and beard made him look even wilder.

The dragonlord raised his head once and glared at him, before turning back to a small piece of wood that he had been carving since they first started eating. He had yet to say a word to the knight, and had made it more than obvious that he wanted Miley gone as quickly as possible.

When the dragonlord had found him with Péleia, they had had a long discussion in a language that the knight could only guess to be dragon, before the older man had finally muttered something about Miley only bringing trouble and then proceeded to guide him towards the cave where they were currently sitting. The dragoness lay curled up behind them, the snout pointing towards the entrance of the cave and though her eyes were close, Miley were sure she wasn’t sleeping. She reminded him of a very large guard dog; one of those who would bite you in the throat if you stepped into the wrong house.

Miley turned back to the fire and stared into the flames. He was sure the dragonlord was ready to ignore him until he left; or at least until the morning when the storm had hopefully passed and he could throw him out again. Miley didn’t fancy getting thrown out, and he didn’t have the time to wait until morning either way. They would have to leave before down, so Miley could be back with Merlin and the Prince’s party at late afternoon. He didn’t like leaving them with men who sold other human beings for a living, but it was a direct order from the King and right at that moment it was more important than ever to not lose the King’s trust.

He cleared his throat, making the dragon look up again, his mouth curved downwards and Miley could see that the man was gritting his teeth.

“What’s the matter, boy?” The dragonlord asked with a sneer.

Miley frowned. It was nearly a decade since he would have described himself like even remotely a boy; not after his uncle had knighted him when he came of age and had officially been named heir of his father’s lands; and not at all since the King called for his vassals to send their share of men for the upcoming war. And this had been nearly five years ago.

He cleared his throat again in discomfort. The knight could count on one hand the times he had asked for this since his mother died and he became the ward and squire of his father’s older brother, lord Brent, who owned the estate right beside theirs. Miley’s father had divided his land, so each of his sons could have a part of his inheritance. In the hope that this would let them be allies instead of fighting each other like Miley’s father’s own father had done with his brother. In some way it had worked; the brother’s had never held anything against each other, even if Brent’s land had been the largest, though this hadn’t kept their life from being filled with blood.

Miley swallowed once and said, “I need your help.”

The dragonlord gave a harsh bark of laugher. His eyes wandered toward the dragoness before flickering back to the knight.

“I have heard that one before,” Balinor said his dark eyes pinned Miley to the place, and it was only then that Miley really felt the age gap. He had become used to keeping an eye on Merlin and had tried to stir the young warlock in the right direction. Now he was thrown back to when he was a squire and was the one in need of guidance. For the love of the goddess, this man really was a spitting image of Brent even if Balinor didn’t resemble the man much in appearance.

With a strong grip on the knife, so even Miley could see as the man’s knuckles turned white, the man forced the rest of the sentence out; probably as caught up in his past as Miley had been. “It didn’t end well.”

“I know,” Miley answered, “but I’m not anything like Uther.” He really tried not to sneer right back at the man at the comparison. The man had good reason for his anger, yet this didn’t soothe the sting that the words had inflicted on Miley. Becoming someone as caught up in guilt and anger as Uther was, had been a fear that had filled the knight when he had been younger, and had hated the King of Camelot with all his being for his role in his father’s death. He still blamed the man, but after his stay at his uncle’s estate, the anger no longer filled him and threatened to consume his whole existence.

“Maybe. Yet, you have done nothing to let me trust you. You have given me no name, no reason for this intrusion in our peaceful lives. The only reason you’re not out there.“ The dragonlord nodded towards the snowstorm raging on the other side of the entrance to the cave, “Is that Péleia seems to like you.” Because she didn’t burn you to a crisp as soon as you met, was left unsaid.

Miley’s anger spiked again. As if the man had given him the chance to tell him all this before with all his hostile glances when he hadn’t outright ignored the knight. Miley took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down again; he couldn’t let the man get to him, had needed a clear head for this conversation.

“My name is Sir Miley, son of Millard and lord of Athelstan and I have come to ask for your help Balinor, because if you won’t, not only will Essetir and Camelot will be torn apart, it will also destroy the promise of Albion ever being born.”

Balinor stared at him, his face had become pale and his gaze had lost its heat. The man opened the mouth then closed it, only to try again. “That’s cannot be true,” he whispered. The only reason that Miley heard him was the fact that other than the slight howling of the wind and the crackle of the flames were the only sounds besides their own breathing. “You can’t be,” Balinor said. His voice a little stronger in his disbelief. “They all died.”

Miley shook his head. “No.” His own voice was no louder than the dragonlord’s had been. “We didn’t. Not all of us at least. Even today, Brent walks to the city gates and keeps an eye on the horizon. He is still waiting for you to come home.”

Balinor mouthed the name of Miley’s uncle, his eyes shining with moisture.

Miley swallowed again, before he confirmed the man’s dawning realization. “He is still waiting for his little brother to come home.”

Balinor hid his head in his hands and Miley had to look away. The man, who was his long lost uncle, was breaking down at the news of his family being alive after having believed them to have been killed in the Purge for more than two decades. And this wasn’t even half of the story.

~o~o~o~

Much to Arthur’s regret they didn’t have the time to think of a better plan before attempting an escape, as the storm had calmed down and dawn was quickly approaching; if they wanted to be able to have the cover of darkness they needed to hurry.

They had slipped out of their shackles and Gwaine was now working on the door while Arthur kept an eye on the guard. Most of the other slavers were asleep at the moment, yet each cage had their own watch, and added to the one guarding the entrance they would have to move very carefully.

The final lock clicked open, Gwaine caught it before it could hit the ground and alert the guards, and all of them froze for a moment while they all discretely looked around to see if they had been discovered. None of the guards moved, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief.

Gwaine looked back over his shoulder and Arthur nodded that he was ready. Merlin and Percival both slowly rose to their knees and then shifted their balance back on their heels, so they could be ready to jump out as soon as the door was opened.

Their guard was right in time to see Merlin slip out of the cage, his eyes widened for a second, then they rolled back as Percival hit him in the head. They dragged him into their former cage and closed the door. Arthur regretted not having the key so they could lock it too, but he remembered the leader taking them with him. They wouldn’t have had the time either way; the other guards were looking away for the moment, but they were all in the open. They would be lucky to have more than a few seconds before they were discovered.

He had barely thought the last sentence before someone shouted,“Oi!” and all hell broke out. The slavers were sadly quicker to wake up than the time it took for their small group to reach reinforcement.

Gwaine and Merlin were both in front of Arthur and were only a few steps from the cage, as the prince turned around to engage their pursuers.

The first slaver rushed towards them, sword swinging wildly as the slightly drunk man aimed at them. He was knocked down with one well-aimed blow from Percival, and the slave snatched the dropped sword, just as their other attackers arrived at the scene.

The group of slavers took a step back and made a half-circle around them; blocking every possible escape. Arthur had just pondered over why they weren’t all rushing at them at once, when he saw movement behind the wall of slavers.

A lock clicked open behind him, however Arthur couldn’t be the slightest bit relived when his newly released knights joined him at his back, as three slavers stepped through the rank of their comrades all of them pointing crossbows at him.

Now, not only fairly outnumbered and cornered, but also in danger of getting shot the moment they moved, Arthur grit his teeth in frustration. Why had he ever thought their desperate plan would work?

They really needed a lot of luck if they wanted to get out alive, and this whole incident had just proved that luck was never on their side.

~o~o~o~

Convincing Balinor that he had a son turned out to be only slightly easier than telling him about his surviving family.

They had first spent another hour talking about their shared family back in Athelstan. Miley told him about his time as a squire and how he was taught the ways of the dragonlords; about their history and society, rites and rituals and how he had been ready to do the last trial to become a dragonlord when the King’s letter had arrived. Balinor told about his own childhood with his brothers, how Millard and Brent tried to play tricks on the castle steward and then gave their younger brother the blame when they were caught.

None of them talked about their experiences in Camelot; nevertheless, somehow the talk still came back to the current situation.

“You said something about Albion never being born if Camelot was destroyed, what did you mean?” Balinor had returned to carving the small piece of wood. Miley could just make out some rough wings and a long neck and tail. The older man wore a small smile now and his eyes were warm, if a little moist, as they looked upon the knight.

“The Great Dragon is currently raining fire over the city, and King Cenred is standing at the border ready to invade the kingdom. If you do not order Kilgharrah to back down, both kingdoms will be destroyed.”

“Uther slaughtered Kilgharrah’s kin. _Our_ kin. I think Kilgharrah is more than entitled to take his revenge. I fail to see how this has anything to do with uniting Albion?”

Miley thought back on Merlin’s horrified face when the boy had heard about the war and the death it would bring for the first time; if not in the war itself then with the famine and plagues which usually followed such largescale destruction. Then he thought back on what kind of death and destruction had happened during the Purge and decided not to mention it.

“Uther’s son is the Once and Future King. If he dies so will Albion.”

Balinor chuckled for a while at those words until he caught up on Miley’s serious expression, then he narrowed his eyes. “That’s nonsense; as if Uther’s brat could ever be the king of the prophecy! Who told you such drivel?”

Miley raised both his brows and the corner of his mouth turned upwards. It had come as a shock for him too, but it had seemed so obvious afterwards; the boy’s power, that Eadric was holding back and that the assassin wanted the prince alive. “Péleia told me when we met.”

“Impossible.”

“She called Merlin Emrys; it wasn’t hard to figure out the rest after that.” The knight knew exactly what the next question would be, yet he could not bring himself to just blurt out the truth; not at all after the man had just gotten over the lie about his family that he had believed for so long.

“Who’s Merlin?”

Miley did not answer for a long time. He could ease the man into it. Tell him about the King and Eadric finding the bracelets that had been believed lost and trying them out on Merlin. Miley didn’t fancy explaining about abducting the boy and later his mother. He really didn’t want to get into explaining everything what had happened in Camelot either.

In the end he just told him the short version. “Merlin is the apprentice of Camelot’s court physician and …”

“Gaius’s still alive?” Balinor asked. Miley nodded. “He’s a good man.” The dragonlord stared blankly into the fire for a moment; probably reliving the night he escaped from the castle all over again.

“Merlin’s your son.”

Balinor looked up in shock, which quickly turned into anger.

“I don’t have a son.”

Miley just gave him a sad look and waited for him to figure it out.

For a minuet Miley thought that Balinor would go for denial again. Then the dragonlord’s features changed into first one of contemplation, then to one of resignation and understanding.

“Hunith?” The question was whispered in a tone that made Miley uncertain whether Balinor really wished for confirmation or feared it.

Miley nodded. He waited until the other man no longer looked in danger of keeling over, before continuing with a short version of the assassin’s plans. He skirted over his actual involvement and Merlin’s injury. He didn't think Balinor even noticed. The man just soaked up all the new information about Merlin that he could get. Maybe it would hit the man harder once he had had the time to think it all through. Miley hoped to be long gone before that.

“I want to see him.” Balinor’s eyes bore into his. It hadn't been a request. “I want to meet my son.”

“After what I just told you-“

“I don't care. He shouldn't have been in Camelot in the first place. He can stay here, or I could take both him and Hunith with me and travel to somewhere else, Caerleon or Mercia maybe.”

Balinor stood up and walked to the entrance to stare out at the snow as if he thought he could catch a glimpse of his son through the white forest.

Miley continued to try and reason with the man. If it had been his own son that had been the one in danger … He didn't know what he would have done. "You know that isn't possible. He is still wearing the bracelets; Eadric will find him in no time no matter how far you run, and when he does he will kill you.”

“I'll fight him. I won’t’ let him take my son again.”

“You'll fight him and you will lose, and where will Merlin be then. Where'll Hunith be? Sometime in the near future the war will end one way or the other and they'll need a safe place to stay.”

Balinor shook his head, but Miley could see there was no longer any fight behind the gesture. It was just denial for what was inevitable to happen. The man used his hand to comb his hair back from his brow.

“Alright.” The man took a deep breath and turned back to the knight. “Alright. I'll call Kilgharrah and order him to cease his attack, but you need to swear to me that you'll keep them both safe until they can get here.”

The man waited until Miley had nodded, then he sighed.

“It's time I took on my part of the responsibilinty for my son.”

 ~o~o~o~

Merlin really wished he had waited for Miley to come back with his men. When Arthur had looked at him with the question in his eyes, Merlin had already decided to help in their escape. Miley had only briefly crossed his mind, then he had happily let Arthur open pick the lock of his handcuffs. Less than five minutes after they stepped out of their cage and he already regretted that decision.

He and Gwaine sprinted towards the nearest cage while they could hear how something landed with a thud behind him. Merlin hoped it wasn’t Arthur and that it didn’t mean they would be run through just yet. He didn’t dare to look over his shoulder, and instead focused on Gwaine’s remarkable steady hands as he tried to pick the lock.

It seemed like an eternity before it finally fell away and Gwaine could jump into the cage and free them from their shackles too; luckily, these didn’t take half as long as the lock and the knights soon jumped out to join the fight.

It was only then they released that the fight had already ended.

The slavers had surrounded their group, grinning at them with too many teeth showing and dark eyes burning with anger. Merlin grimaced in fear, and let his eyes dart around to find a possible escape, even when he already knew there wouldn’t be one. He began to doubt that the slavers would keep their word to Miley after their little trip across the cave. Where were those men the knight mentioned having stationed within this lovely troupe?

Arthur wore the same determined expression as he had back in the cage, as he refused to look intimidated at the crossbow bolts pointed at his chests. Merlin envied him on that point; he would like to say that he could face certain death without care like the prince, even if this carelessness was a lie.

Jarl finally arrived at the scene and pushed his way through his men. His expression was no longer that of dark amusement, everything about his stance suggested that it took everything of the man not to jump right in and rip someone’s throat out.

He cast another glance around on his companions. Though they all tried to hide it, they were clearly nervous; none of them knew what to do.

Merlin felt his magic stir as his heartbeat speed up further, and he had to force it down, so it wouldn’t end up blasting everyone off their feet. He needed a plan. Now. And one that hopefully didn’t kill them. Using magic was always a possibility, but one he tried to avoid; they stood too close to each other, one of the knights or even Arthur could turn their head just slightly and see, and with Jarl already knowing about his power he didn’t even have the moment of surprise, had he?

Merlin frowned. Miley hadn’t actually said that he had told Jarl about his magic. There was no real reason for the slave trader to know, so maybe Miley hadn’t told him that particular fact. It would actually have made the risk of discovery bigger. But was he ready to act on speculations, and hope he was lucky enough to succeed? He didn’t appear to have any choice in the end, not when he didn’t know when the rest of Miley’s men would arrive; they could be dead a hundred times over before then.

“And they say royalty are supposed to be smart,” Jarl said with a snarl. A few of the slavers chuckled on Arthur’s behalf, yet the prince didn’t rise to the bait.  “I’m beginning to doubt that you’re really worth the trouble.” Jarl tilted his head to one side like a dog as he studied the group before him. Arthur stayed silent.

“Did we even catch the right person? Maybe we should cut him up to check if his blood is really blue?” He asked his men with a raised brow. The slavers cheered and Jarl’s smirk grew.

He looked back at Arthur. “My men seem to agree.” He drew his sword. “Any last words?”

“Sir?” One of the slavers in the back stepped closer to Jarl. He wore a frown and looked strangely uncomfortable with the situation. The difference between him and the other slavers were subtle; his clothes were the same brown leather as theirs, only newer. He held a sword in his hand like most of the slavers, yet even from were Merlin was standing, he could see that the edges was made of steel instead of pure iron; a rare thing even among the wealthier soldiers. Even if it was stolen, it was unlikely for a mere slaver to possess such a valuable weapon. He had to be one of Miley’s men, maybe even a knight himself.*

Merlin didn’t pay any heed to what the man said after that, as he used the distraction to his advantage instead. He reached out towards some of the bedrolls, which still lay in a circle around the fire, and willed them to burn. A flash of gold later and big flames were devouring the blankets. Grey smoke curled up towards the roof of the cave, where it gathered while it searched for a way to escape its confinement.

It didn’t take long for the smell of smoke to reach the group.

“Fire!”

Merlin couldn’t see who had shouted, but in the next moment everyone turned towards the fireplace and what was left of the camp. Merlin was glad that no one paid any attention to him anymore, as he wasn’t sure how believable his surprised expression was, when all he could feel was relief as the knights and the prince took advantage of the panic and escaped the quickly dissolving circle.

Jarl was shouting for order, yet by the time he had finally gotten the situation back under control, Gwaine had already freed the knights and slaves in the last cage and they all ran out of the cave and disappeared into the forest.

Above them, the first sunrays stretched across the sky as a new day arrived.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Swords in the middle ages were made of hard iron with steel edges not only of pure steel, because the material was too hard to make. I don’t know if this applied to all swords, because I know they also made swords out of bronze and probably also from pure iron (this changes with what century you look at). That swords with steel edges were more valuable than the other types is just my guess; but I do know that to own real armour and a sword, you had to have a good amount of money.
> 
> Names:  
> Brent: Burnt; steep  
> Millard: Guardian of the mill  
> Athelstan: Noble stone


	22. Spider's web

**Chapter 20 – Spider’s Web**

The first sunbeams hit the newly fallen snow. Miley stood at the edge of the clearing, with his arms around himself to stop himself from shivering as his breath created white clouds in a new world. The forest around him had transformed over night; the snow covered the naked branches of the trees and hid the fallen leaves on the ground.

A warm puff of breath hit the left side of his face, and for a moment the smell of charred meat hung in the air. He turned his head to look at the old dragoness at his side. She wasn’t looking at him, but staring unblinkingly on the dragonlord standing with his head bowed in the middle of the clearing.

She hadn’t said more than a few words after they had meat for the first time, choosing instead to use most of the night to stare out on the falling snow. Miley wondered what she had been thinking about; the future or the past?

Maybe Kilgharrah had been right and he should have come for him earlier; dragons were born to rule the sky, not to be held shackled under tons of stone. Yet, how free would he have truly been? Looking at Péleia he could see how truly trapped these creatures of magic had become. Even if the dragoness wore no binds, she was never truly free. She could not fly as she pleased in fear of discovery, and because of Uther she and her kind would now be remembered only as simple beast, and not as the wise creatures they truly were.

He swallowed. It hurt him deeply to see his kin suffer and be unable to do anything about it. He could only hope as she did that it would change. Could change. That Arthur and Merlin one day would bring back peace to the magical community. He would just have to hope that Eadric and the two wicked kings hadn’t ruined that possibility.

But first things first; Camelot needed to stay standing.

Balinor stood breathing deeply, and Miley knew he was searching for the wild fire that burned in his soul, which he shared with the dragons; the power that allowed him to speak to his kin in their tongue that made them unable to disobey. Miley’s own uncle had tried to teach him this when he was younger, but had never truly managed to control it, though he could feel its familiar burning.

When all this was over, maybe Balinor would try to teach Merlin in the same way.

The dragonlord suddenly threw his head back and shouted in a hoarse growling-language that made the fire in Miley’s soul spike for a second in recognition. Péleia raised her head to the sky and hummed.

They all watched the sky. A few clouds still hung back from last night’s storm, white against paling blue.

The sky has lightened completely as a dark golden dot appeared. The dot grew in size, and was accompanied with a dull _thump, thump, thump,_ each time the huge beast beat its wings. More gracefully than his size should have allowed Kilgharrah landed and lowered his head until he looked Balinor in the eyes. The dragon barely spared Miley or the dragoness a look, though Miley knew very well that the dragons didn’t need words to communicate.

“Hello old friend.” Balinor’s back was straight even when the guilt he felt was clear for everyone to see.

Kilgharrah ignored the greeting and crooked his head to the side. “Balinor,” he said, voice a low rumble. “Why have you called me here?”

“You know very well why.”

Kilgharrah sneered slightly, but didn’t react otherwise.

“I thought you would be happy that Uther finally got what he had coming.”

Miley watched the dragonlord carefully. The man would have agreed with him not a few hours earlier.

“Things change.”

The rest of the conversation was spoken in the dragon tongue and Miley knew that he should leave. His job was done here; Kilgharrah would no longer attack the castle and he could bring Merlin and the prince back to Camelot without risking their life more than necessary.

As he walked out of the clearing, he could hear Péleia following him. He didn’t turn around, and she didn’t try to catch up either, only when they arrived back at the cave did she speak.

“Young knight.”

He turned to face her, asking her with his eyes rather than words. It didn’t feel like a time for questions, and yet she seemed content to answer.

“When the time comes, lend the young prince your sword.”

He didn’t object, just grabbed the hilt of Sóþfæder and nodded.

“And bring Merlin here when this is over. Balinor is right, he has much to learn”

Again he promised. It had always been his plan to get Merlin back to his family, well his mother and father, the rest could wait. Balinor needed to have a long talk with them first, and that wouldn’t happen with the war razing outside their doors.

 ~o~o~o~

Arthur was gasping for breath, his lungs were filled with burning coal, and his legs felt numb and heavy, yet his mind remained nearly blank. He didn’t feel the twigs hitting his face. He didn’t see the path before him becoming lighter every minute. He barely kept track of his companions running with him, it was mostly instinct keeping him running in the same direction as them.

In his mind a very different scene was playing. _They were surrounded; the slavers in front of them, the cage cutting off their retreat. The leader of the group was talking, but Arthur was focused on something right behind him and didn’t register his words; the fire was flaring up._

_Then it jumped onto the blankets lying around it._

_There weren’t any other words for it. The blankets had been much too far away from the fire. It shouldn’t have been possible. Still, the fire grew, the panic spread, and then he was running._

He jumped across a creek. His feet slipped in the mud, and he lost his balance for a second. Then he was running again.

_It shouldn’t have been possible._

He ducked under a low branch. 

 _It_ hadn’t been _possible_.

Merlin found his way to his path and nearly stumbled into the prince. Arthur grabbed his arm and dragged him with him, not slowing down even when the boy slipped a second time. He sounded close to collapsing. Arthur didn’t slow down.

_He shouldn’t go down this road. If he first acknowledged the signs, he would have to act. He didn’t want to act. Yet the facts …_

Some of the others joined them as the path became wider and the sound of their pursuers faded until it disappeared completely. Finally, he forced himself to slow down. His legs suddenly felt weak, and he swayed slightly before he steadied himself. Merlin wasn’t as lucky and collapsed against a tree as soon as he was able. Some of the slaves joined him. Percival barely seemed out of breath, and though you couldn’t say the same about Gwaine, the man was still smiling and seemed a long way from keeling over.

His knights gathered around him after scouting the era, something that he should have thought of himself, but was too distracted to do. They had discovered a stream nearby, and when everyone had more or less caught their breath, they followed Leon there to soothe their raw throats. All the while Arthur was lost in his own thought.

_None of the slavers had even been looking that way, and why would they even want to burn their own camp down? No, even though it hurt him deeply, he had to let his logical half win._

Gwaine was saying something that made the others chuckle. Now that the danger had passed, people began to relax and forget, even while keeping eyes and ears open, so that they wouldn’t be taken by surprise again. The former slaves, with the exception of Gwaine and Percival, were a bit more reversed, but even some of them cracked a smile when Gwaine began on an outrageous tale that had no chance of being true, and became better for it.

Arthur sat on the outskirts of their makeshift circle as Leon came over and sat down beside him. He didn’t speak, and Arthur was grateful for it. He sunk back into his half-awake state, sure that his knights would notice any possible danger in time, and began sorting his thought again.

_Magic. It had to be magic. And one from his group had to have cast it. There was no other possible explanation._

He wished there was.

Leon sighed and stood up again. Arthur blinked and noticed that the sun now stood right above their head; it was already midday. They should have been moving a long time ago. He told Leon as much.

The knight nodded, even though he didn’t look overly worried. Arthur had to agree; they had run a long while, probably several miles, it was unlikely that the slavers would find them any time soon, and now that the adrenalin had burned out, they were all more or less dead on their feet.

“We need to find Balinor,” Arthur said and tried to place them somewhere on his mental map of the era. The slavers had taken them southwards, but which way had they run? He asked Leon. The knight didn’t know either.

Arthur looked around; he needed to find a more open place where he would be able to see the Feorre Mountains, then they really had to move.

 ~o~o~o~

It took them the rest of the day to find the right path to follow. They had been running in the wrong direction when they escaped, but luckily, they didn’t have to backtrack completely, just steer a little further east. As the sky again darkened, they stumbled across the Marlow.

The dead tree stood out as a dark silhouette against the sunset. Its gnarled form reached out to them in greeting. The group came to a silent agreement and gave it a wide berth, the forester’s words still clear in their minds.

No one spoke before they were a good mile away from the haunted place. They had followed the Cromwell until they arrived at the stream that the forester had mentioned and turned to continue that way, when the small group of former slaves announced that they wanted to split up. Many of them had families they wanted to return to, or they simple had no desire to fight another’s battle now when they had gotten the taste of freedom once again.

The prince gave each of them a nod of respect and bit them farewell. He turned to Percival and Gwaine as the others disappeared around the next bend of the river.

“You’re not going with them?” It was more of a statement than an actual question considering that they had stayed. Gwaine still answered him.

“Nah. You look like you could use a hand with whatever you’re doing.”

Percival nodded, a small smile grazing his face.

Arthur gave a nod back, and didn’t ask any further questions. They needed all the help they could get, and he had other problems. Finding Balinor was only one of them, and that proved difficult enough as it was.

For a moment, he played with the thought that one of them … But he had no proof and he really didn’t have the time to come with accusations even when the urge to shout it for the whole world to hear was nearly impossible to resist. His father’s warnings rung in his head, and it took everything for him to ignore them.

_It is not the right time for this._

He tried to convince himself of that this was the truth. He wasn’t doing a very good job.

Arthur nearly called for them to set up camp and continue the next day, when they arrived at the cave. It was clear that someone lived there; the coals were still smoking from a recently extinguished fire, a few pots were lying around and a few blankets on straw made up a bed in one corner.

Yet, there were no one there.

Arthur tensed up, and they all looked around suddenly very uneasy. His skin was prickling and he was sure someone was watching. It was clear that they had already been discovered; there really was no need for trying to keep quiet anymore.

“Balinor?” He called out towards the trees. “We are only here to talk.”

Arthur waited, but no one stepped out to greet them. He bit his teeth together and thought back to Gwen, his father even Morgana, even if she was annoying as sibling had a tendency to be, the citizens. He was doing it for them; something like pride shouldn’t really matter.

“Please. We need your help.”

A branch broke somewhere behind them. Arthur whirled around just as a rider and his mount stepped closer. He heard a gasp from behind him, as the others followed his lead.

They had just come from that way, how hadn’t they seen him before? Had he really been so focused on his own thoughts that he had failed to notice that they had been followed?

Even though he had never met Balinor, he was certain that this man wasn’t him, he was far too young, and clad not as a man living in the forest but as a soldier. He actually seemed familiar; dirty blond hair stood up in every direction, and sharp features together with clear blue-green eyes. Yes, he had definitely met this man before.

“Who are you?”

The man ignored his question. “I’m afraid you’re too late; Balinor just left. He won’t be back for a few days at least.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, he didn’t like that the man was currently looking down on them, completely relaxed as if he didn’t see them as a threat even when armed. The air was heavy with tension, and his muscles refused to relax; he was sure there would be an attack, yet the man appeared to be alone. He hadn’t even drawn his sword.

The prince subtly shifted his stance so he had a better look on his surroundings as he tried to stall.

“Where did he go?"

“I really aren’t in the position to tell you.”

This wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. He could practically feel his time slipping away. Something bad was going to happen soon. Arthur tried to listen for anything out of place. Nothing. He couldn’t detect any movement either, yet he still felt like they were being watched.

He didn’t let his desperation show as he changed tactics once again. “I can pay you for your troubles.”

The rider chuckled, actually laughed at him. The man’s eyes grew cold when he answered. “I’m sure you could, Arthur Pendragon.” Then he muttered something and the air and his eyes flashed gold.

“Sorcerer,” Arthur said with a low growl, but he could do nothing further. The air around them began to shimmer as if it was a warm summer day, not in the beginning of winter. Then the spell broke completely and finally revealed what his instinct had already told him was there, even when his eyes couldn’t.

Their black capes fluttered in the cold breeze. Like the first rider, they hadn’t even bother to draw their weapon even if their swords and bows hung in plain sight. One horse had grown impatient; it snorted and stomped with its front leg. It was the only sound to be heard in the long moment it took for their group to comprehend what had just happened.

They were surrounded. Again.

 ~o~o~o~

Merlin’s heart nearly stopped when he recognised the rider. He had completely forgotten Miley’s words while they were escaping, it had all been about taking another step while ignoring his body screaming at him to stop unless he wanted to collapse.

Suddenly he felt the air humming around him. Actually, now that he thought about it; it had been there since they stepped into the clearing before the cave, he had just not hadn’t had time to realise what it meant; magic, most likely courtesy of Miley. He even thought that he recognized the feel of that specific spell.

He looked around him, and reached out with his magic to feel the spell. It filled the air all around them; it was concealing something. He reached further, found cracks in the illusion and searched for whatever was really behind. Several riders were slowly approaching from every direction, while making as little noise as possible.

The snare was tightening all the while Arthur spoke with the knight. Soon it would be too late for them to get away. Miley was keeping the prince and knights from discovering the trap before it would be too late.

Merlin shifted in unease. He felt someone grabbing his shoulder, and looked back at Lancelot. The soldier gave him a reassuring smile, probably thinking Merlin was scared. Merlin sent him a watery smile back. It was more dreed than actually fear that filled him.

He stood before the choice of breaking the enchantment, and maybe they would be able to escape once again, or he could do nothing and let Miley capture them. He felt the cracks in the magic again, it would be able to destroy it; he had gotten a lot more control after Miley began to teach him. It was ironic that this could end up ruining the knight’s plan.

 _Don’t_. Miley’s voice rang in his head, and he focused back on the knight. Miley wasn’t looking at him though; all his attention was focused on the Prince of Camelot.

Merlin swallowed. It all really came down to whether he trusted the knight or not. He had been in that dilemma before, but this time he could truly feel the lives depending on his choice. Had the knight even gotten the dragonlord to call back the dragon, as he had said he would? There was no way for him to ask.

The sound of the whole group shifting got him to come back to the present. The enchantment was making the air flicker around them, until it broke entirely. Merlin silently cursed himself; he had lost his chance to act.

He watched as Miley leans his head to one side as he studied the group. In a few moments that lasted longer in the heavy silence, the knight seems to have reached a quick decision as he narrowed his eyes and spurred his horse forwards.

Merlin stood his ground even as everyone else takes an instinctive step away from the horse, but it is with his heart in his throat and shaking hands. Miley rode up to him then grabbed him by his arms and pulled him up before him on his horse. Merlin yelped in surprise and tenses up. He feels like a small child sitting there, and if he hadn’t had the feeling of what this would lead too, his whole face would probably have been transformed into a glowing oven. As it was, he could feel as he paled even further, his skin cold and clammy, his hands now shaking so much he had a hard time burrowing his fingers in the thick mane.

It was only then he that he noticed the prince shouting, “Get your dirty hands of him, you spineless coward! He has nothing to do with this.” This was accompanied by several curses from both Gwaine and Sir Edgar, while the others had a hard time deciding whether to face the threat around them or between them.

Merlin looked wide-eyed at Miley, silently begging him not to do this, yet the knight didn’t look at him at all, too busy glaring at the prince who was now right in front of him.

“You’re one to talk.” Miley gave him a challenging sneer, though his eyes were more amused than angry. “And how would you even know, hmm? You don’t know a thing about what has happened right before your eyes for a long time.” The sneer had by then turned into a smirk, and he was practically goading the prince.

Arthur made to grab at them, either to get Merlin back or throw Miley from his horse, Merlin never found out then at that time the soldiers had tightened the circle and two seized the prince’s arms. He struggled once, then he frowned, clearly reflecting on what the knight had just said.

Merlin was afraid to look him in the eyes and chose to watch him from the corners of his eyes instead. Arthur looked confused for all of five seconds when he caught Merlin’s probably very guilty expression, then betrayal and rage showed for another short moment before his expression turned into one of stone. Had Merlin not been looking for it, he wouldn’t even have seen it, but he knew that the prince now knew.

He now knew who the real traitor had been all along, was probably figuring out that Merlin had been the one to break into his chambers, maybe he even thought he had freed the dragon. It didn’t matter much anymore, Merlin might have come to enjoy the company of the prince and his knight, but that friendship had never been real. Could never have become real, he had known this.

And yet he had to swallow several times, while his eyes burned with unshed tears. He had known all this, and yet it felt like a very important bond had just been broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part 2 – only two real chapters left. After four years (two years with the re-write), I’m glad it’s finally coming to an end – I hope you have not been lost along the way.
> 
> So, I would be glad to get a bit of feedback. Personally, I think Miley began to take over this story – that wasn’t my intention, but some characters just have a life of their own I guess. Well, this was probably the last time I write from his POV, though he still has an important role to play. Well, if you got any question regarding anything plot or characterwise feel free to ask in a review or with a PM.


	23. Interlude II

**Part three – The magic of souls**

**Interlude II**  

That evening Merlin truly felt the rift between him and the rest of the group from Camelot. The group had been stripped of their weapons and shackled on both hands and feet, with only just enough slack for them to be able to eat from the bowl of stew they were offered.  The warlock sat beside Miley, unbound yet far from free, and prodded at his own food with his spoon. He felt no hunger, even after a whole day without food, but he forced himself to drink some when Miley offered him his water skin, knowing he needed some kind nourishment.

His former friends had sent more than one heated glare at him, the betrayal evident on all their faces. Merlin might not have been with them for even a year, yet he knew they had seen him as their friend, just as he had come to see them as his. Only Gwaine and Percival seemed to take it all in a stride, but then again; they had only just met him and who knew what they had come from; for all he knew this could be a completely normal situation for them.

Merlin let the spoon fall into the bowl and sat it down. Miley glanced at him, before turning back to his conversation with Sir-something of Essetir. The man that had led the soldiers until Miley took command of the unit upon their arrival, or so Miley had told him while they had been setting up camp. His hair was just a shade darker and a few inches longer than Mileys; just enough to cover most of a hideous scar that went across his right eyebrow. His grey eyes were constantly shifting from side to side, even in the middle of a discussion, and his gaze more than once found Merlin's. It was as if he waited for something to jump out of the bushes at any moment, and it only served to make Merlin even more nervous.

Finally it seemed like the knights were finished with their discussion, as Miley waved for Merlin to join him at the other side of the camp by the horses. Merlin found began to rub Aethelfled down, while the horses munched on the hay Miley had provided them.

“What did you talk about?” Merlin asked, mostly to kill the awkward silence between them. They hadn’t shared a word since they had parted before Balinor’s cave for what seemed like ages ago. He tried to quell the anger that had been been building towards the other sorcerer as the betrayed gazes from the other’s and his own shame of his role in the whole scheme slowly got to him.

“Nothing important; we just talked about the easiest route towards Camelot, nothing to worry about.” Merlin nodded. Even if it hadn’t felt as an unimportant discussion, he wouldn’t pry. It wasn’t like that was really what he wanted to know either way.

He licked his lips and tried to think of how to best approach the subject, when Miley beat him to it.

“I found Balinor.”

Merlin had thought as much given that the knight returned as quickly as he did. “You got him to call the dragon then?” He watched the knight closely. If Balinor hadn’t agreed the chance of Gaius and Gwen still being alive was slim, yet the knight nodded and Merlin could breathe a sigh of relief. Then Miley proceeded by telling about Balinor’s draconic companion and Merlin felt his eyes widen.

“There’s another dragon?” Merlin suddenly remembered a similar conversation months before, when he had first discovered the Grimoire. “But you said Uther hunted them down!” He glared at the knight. Miley snorted, and would probably have rolled his eyes if they hadn’t still been in sight of both soldiers and knights back by the fire.

“Keep your voice down.” He scolded. “- And I said he _tried_ to hunt them down that’s not remotely the same as saying that he succeeded, though the numbers of dragons have certainly dwindled because of men like Uther.”

Merlin let it rest. He would get back to it later, when they hadn’t a war to worry about. Hopefully.

“You said she talked to you? Did she tell you how to end the war?” He knew his question was naïve; when had _anything_ been that easy, yet he couldn’t keep the hope from filling him regardless.

Miley watched him closely for a minute before answering. “You could say that.” Then he surprised the younger man by grabbing his wrist, right above the invisible band that bound him. Merlin had nearly forgotten it was even there; his time in the Castle of Fyrien felt like it had happened in another lifetime. “ _This,_ ” Miley beat his finger against the metal, “is the real problem. The closer Eadric is to you, the easier is it for him to control it, and with it your magic.”

Merlin shifted uncomfortable and pulled his hand back and rubbed over the band that could be felt but not seen. “That’s not exactly news.”

“No, it’s not, which is why I have been teaching you magic for the last few months and not just now. The more control _you_ have the less _he_ has.”

Merlin frowned. “I don’t understand. How do you even know so much about the bracelets?”

Miley ignored his question. Another thing the knight was quickly becoming an expert in.

“Don’t you see? The dragoness just pointed out something I should have realized ages ago; the time for hiding is over. I have been so afraid of losing what I have that I didn’t see that I had lost it already.”

Merlin shook his head. He didn’t understand a word the knight was saying. Miley seemed to acknowledge the same thing.

“No matter. A discussion for another time. Right now I want you to practice your magic, leave the rest to me for now.”

~o~o~o~

The last fires from the Great Dragon’s attack had only just been put out when new flames flared on the horizon, as their scouts warned them of the approaching army. The walls had crumbled more than once under the dragon’s sharp claws, many of the soldiers were dead or injured and it would be weeks before reinforcements could arrive from the southern borders.

The battle lasted only a few hours, Cenred’s army more walked than fought their way through first the outer- and inner walls and then the castle itself. The surviving knights of Camelot and courtiers were locked up in the dungeons until their family either paid the requested ransom or they were executed, and the townspeople and staff locked themselves into their houses and rooms until the new King would be crowned, so things could get more or less back to normal; hopefully without too many raised taxes.

The former king was brought to the throne room, behaving nearly like a madman in his anger and humiliation.

Cenred grinned at Uther from where he sat lounging on the throne. Eadric stood a step behind and to the right, a carefully blank expression on his face.

”Enjoying yourself, Uther? It had been so long without any word, I thought it was time for a visit.”

The former king glared, but was forced to stay silent behind the dirty cloth the soldiers had used to gag him.

”Nothing to say? I would have thought you would at least have greeted me with a banquet too now that you were kind enough to open the gates for me, but it seems like I’ll have to throw one myself.”

Uther growled and threw himself against the arms restraining him, succeeding in nothing other than getting the soldiers to tighten their hold and hit him at the back of his head. Uther’s glare was murderous.

Cenred ignored it.

”Ah, I’m afraid I have used all the time I had for chatting. The strain of ruling a kingdom, you know.” He spared a fleeting glance at the former king. ”I’m sure we can catch up later,” he said with a smug sneer, before waving for his men to take Uther away.

The door closing made him turn serious again; his time for gloating had passed. ”When will they arrive?"

"They should be here at noon tomorrow."

"Excellent."

The King stood up and began to walk the same path the soldiers had dragged Uther. "Be sure to inform me when they are spotted."

"Of course. My lord."

If Cenred noticed the assassin's slight hesitation or the hint of sarcasm in his tone, he didn’t comment.

Eadric stayed behind as the echoes of the door faded and the slow buzz from the corridors outside disappeared.

Enough was enough. Releasing the dragon had confirmed that Cenred was a downright fool, and that pest of a knight had already interfered in his plans more than once so that it now actually began to look like a threat. The druid prophecy would soon be fulfilled; there was no time for half laid plans and petty kings that had no idea that real power was measured in neither money nor soldiers.

It was high time to get everything back under control, starting with Miley and the boy.

~o~o~o~

Two old creatures lay in a clearing deep in the forest, miles away from any human civilization; one was shining a burnished gold the other dark red.

These creatures had watched time pass before man came to the area behind the mountains, before they build their cities and castles and before one king, filled with fear and anger, decided to hunt anything resembling the very magic both the creatures and nature itself was made of. Now, two decades after the Great Purge, a mere blink of the eye for creatures like them, they had met again.

Balinor had disappeared back to his cave hours ago, but the dragons were content to stay and watch the sun wander over the sky and just listening as the birds slowly began to sing again when the dragons made no move to start a hunt.

Finally shifting a bit, Péleia let out a puff of smoke. “You didn’t tell Emrys about the prophecy.” It wasn’t a question.

Kilgharrah turned his head to look at her. His eyes were older than hers, even if not with years. “I told him that it existed.”

“And yet you avoided telling him about the Prince.” There was no accusation, just a fact.

Kilgharrah snorted. “It wasn’t the right time. Their time will only come when Uther’s has passed and Balinor did not let that happen now, as you well know, star-gazer.” The old nick-name made her hum in amusement.

“I know nothing, silver-tongue. It’s our job to explain the game, not move the pieces, even if you have always been fond of doing so regardless.”

She stood up and stretched her wings. “But maybe you’re right this time; Emrys has much to learn yet before Albion can be born, and so has the young king. A tree need to grow its roots before it grows its fruits, and their roots are still short.”

With those words she took to the air with two strong strokes of her wings, leaving the clearing and the newly freed dragon behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions and constructive criticism is always welcome.


	24. The battle for Camelot part I

**Chapter 21: The battle for Camelot part I**

The cell wasn't all that different from every other cell. Not that Arthur, formerly Crown Prince and heir to the throne of Camelot, had visited all that many.

The straw-covered floor was no surprise, and the rats scurrying in and out of the cell in search for food were pretty much to be expected. The bucket in the corner was maybe a bit of a privilege, but not really anything exceptional either.

No, what really made this particular cell special was not how it looked, but what he was able to see from the small barred window in the back of the cell. When he stood on his toes, he was at eye-level with the cobblestones of Camelot's courtyard.

He could see the people, his people, carrying out their daily tasks like they had always done, though he thought he saw a few more wary glances, even if that could have just been wishful thinking.

The common folk were not as affected by a new ruler as the knights and the general nobility, yet the uncertainty of new taxes and the high possibilities of wars or raids as the other kingdoms would test the stability of the kingdom made them mostly opposed to any invaders trying to take the throne.

In the end not even a full out rebellion might be enough to overthrow someone like Cenred, who had magic on his side.

The clacking of chains got him to turn around. Gwaine stretched in the neighbour cell. He gave the former prince a big grin when he saw him looking. "Morning, Princess."

Arthur ignored him in favour of turning his attention to his cellmate, who was slowly sitting up in the corner where he had been lying. Straw stuck in the man's dirty blond hair, and together with the cut above his temple, it made him look like a rather pitiful scarecrow. Yet, the man's gaze was calm and collected exposing him as anything other than harmless.

Had a manacle not restricted his movement, Arthur would have already been on his way to demand answers from the traitor by whatever means necessary now that the man was finally conscious.

No, that wasn't quite true; he wouldn't have waited for the man to wake on his own.

If there was one thing his father had said repeatedly while he was growing up then it was that you should never give a sorcerer the upper hand. It was what had gone wrong in the woods, and he would not make the same mistake twice.

As it was, he could only watch as the sorcerer sat against the iron bars and played with his own restrains. The chain had much smaller links and looked to me made of silver, which should have made them too week to hold, yet they were clearly more than met the eye seeing as the sorcerer was still there.

The other man must have read his thoughts on his face, or maybe literally, who was he to know the limits of magic, because the man sent him a small grimace that might have been a smile under other circumstances. "They are magical."

Arthur snorted. "Obviously."

They didn't talk after that, and Arthur was once again left with his own thoughts.

* * *

Merlin walked down the corridor, two of Cenred's guards followed behind him. When he had first arrived back at the castle the day before, he had been surprised that so little has changed from when he had been there last.

Yes, the damage on the few outer villages could be seen miles away; the fires had been put out, yet the smoke and smell still lingered, but the castle itself and the lower town were both mostly unharmed. A few houses were damaged, however the walls still stood and the marketplace was just as packed with people as it had been when they left.

It was nearly impossible to see that it was another king sitting on the throne.

One thing had changed though; the knights no longer wore Pendragon red, instead they now walked around in black capes. The Knights of Camelot were all either dead or locked up in the dungeons, where also the former king and the Pendragon prince now resided. And Miley.

The knight had been arrested as soon as they were inside the city walls, and Merlin hadn't seen him since. Merlin himself had been stuck with permanent guards that made all the castle servants look at him weirdly. There had been a few rumours floating around about him, but most had been about the former King and Prince, and they had never been spoken where outsiders might be able to listen in.

There were many different versions of how exactly the attack had gone, because apparently it had been so quick that the guards barely had had the time to even sound the warning bells. One of the theories was that the castle gates had been standing open, another that one of the less liked nobles had opened them in the cover of darkness. Merlin thought it was more likely that Camelot's guards had simple been overwhelmed by the essetirian army's use of magic.

Sir Eadric alone could take out a good part of the defenceless army. They had no real idea of what magic was because most of the soldiers and knights had grown up while magic was outlawed and feared, and few people were left that remembered how to counter it.

They finally arrived at Gaius' chambers and the guards stayed outside the door while Merlin could finally get some privacy. He hated being watched all the time, it reminded him too much of his time in the Castle of Fyrien. Which, now that he thought about it, wasn't far from the truth. He had been summoned to the assassins champers the evening before, where Eadric had used over an hour making him do whatever pleased him. Mostly it had been things like cleaning the fireplace or making the bed, but later he had gone through some of the fighting moves that he had taught him. It seemed to Merlin that it had mostly been a demonstration of the assassins power over him.

As if being reminded of how it felt not to be in control of his own body felt wasn't enough, he also had to be reminded of that his more or less peaceful time in the castle was over.

He had no idea what he was actually meant to do. He had not been a part of the plan for taking the castle, yet the assassin had trained him to fight, as if he expected another battle. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

Gaius was in the middle of brewing something on his small working fire, but looked up when Merlin closed the door behind him.

"Ah Merlin, it is good that you finished so early. I could use your help here." He gestured to the shelves filled with dried herbs and whatnot. "Could you bring me some Knitbone? A few leaves should be enough."*

Merlin found the basket filled with the dried leaves and took a few with him to Gaius.

"Thank you, my boy. Could you get me some clean water too? It is important that this doesn't get too thick while it's still boiling."

Merlin appreciated his time with Gaius even more now that he was back. The old physician was one of the only people who treated him exactly the same, even after he arrived back without chains but with two guards following around. He had just raised his eyebrow impossible high and then proceeded to feed him some half-cold stew. Yet Merlin was sure the physician knew more about what had happened than both the servants and nobles ever would.

Later they ate their stew in near silence. Gaius asked him a few questions about his day, but seemed to sense that his ward was distracted by other things and left him alone after that only reminding him to get some sleep before the physician himself went to bed..

Merlin waited another hour after Gaius' breathing had evened out, then he sneaked up to the chamber door and waited. A soft clicking of metal could be heard as one of the guards shifted outside. He really hoped that the assassin would be sleeping too, otherwise this would be a very short trip.

He wasn't sure if the spell would work through the door, but opening it wasn't an option either, so he would have to do without. He concentrated hard on directing the magic through the wood and whispered, "Swefe nu."

Two dull thuds came from the other side of the door, and he winced at how loud it sounded.

The door creaked slightly when he opened it and sneaked out, crossed over the sleeping guards and walked further down the stairs and corridors towards the dungeons.

* * *

The fireplace was lit in the King's chambers and several candles bathed the room in a soft orange light. The cosy atmosphere didn't fit with the two people currently sitting in the heavy armchairs by the fire nor the conversation they were having.

Goblets of fine wine stood on the small table between them, still filled nearly to the brim, though there were no servants in the room to refill them. None of them wanted to be drunk for this conversation.

"You've got your castle," Eadric said while staring at the king sitting before him, getting the man to squirm slightly though he clearly tried not to show it.

"Yes," Cenred said. He took a sip of the goblet in front of him, mostly to stall until he found the right words. He needed to be very careful with this if he didn't want to lose his advantage.

"The castle and the royal family are secured, but the people and the local lords have yet to accept my. They might try to revolt against me."

"That is none of my concern; our agreement was only about taking the castle," Eadric said with a dry voice, while taking his own sip of the rich drink, "I'll be leaving with the boy in the morning, as soon as Uther has been dealt with."

Cenred grit his teeth, knowing that the possibility of one or more of the lords trying to overthrow him would only rise if the sorcerer were to leave. At the moment the lords were afraid of his magic, but now with Sir Miley in the dungeons … He had a few sorcerers enrolled in his army, but none of their power could measure up to the assassin's.

That son of a dragonlord had caused more trouble than he was worth for the king. He might have bought the assassin loyalty better than the gold ever did, but Eadric hadn't used him as of yet, and Cenred was beginning to doubt if the sorcerer was even able to.

He hated begging. A king shouldn't need to beg for anything; the people should be doing the begging. By Eadric's smug expression, the sorcerer somehow guessed his thoughts.

This was one person that he would have to swallow his pride around or his reign would be a very short one.

"You know what would happen if you left now."

"Yes." Eadric took another sip, frowned down in his cup as if something about it displeased him, then swallowed the liquid regardless. He was looking completely uninterested with the conversation, and Cenred knew he was goading him into getting angry, and he was sad to say that it was working.

"Then say your prize," the King nearly growled.

The sorcerer tilted his head slightly to one side like a curious dog. He took his time answering while the King clenched and unclenched his hand under the table.

"Alright. I'll stay another month if I get the young Pendragon as well."

Cenred scoffed and forgot all about trying to stay calm.

"You must think me a fool! Absolutely not! My position as King of the land would be worthless if I let the heir survive, let alone run free! I could just as well hand over my kingdom."

The assassin just sent him a look. "I have no need for the strain of ruling a kingdom."

"I said no."

The sorcerer wasn't deterred.

"You asked my prize and I gave it. Take the offer, or I'll be on my way to my chambers so that I might catch some sleep before my trip tomorrow."

"What would you even want with him?" The king tried to make the words sound mocking.

"That's my own business. Do we have an agreement or not? I won't ask again."

Cenred was silent for a long time. They both knew that the King had no real choice, that the outcome had been set from the beginning, yet they both kept up the appearance.

"Fine." The king's tone was bitter and the words were spit out as if they tasted vile on his tongue. Anger was simmering in his eyes, but he kept his temper in check this time even as he tried to save a bit of dignity. "But I get to say when you can leave."

The assassin didn't really listen and waved his hand dismissively at the king, before standing up from his seat. "Something is wrong," the assassin said and left the room without another look at the King.

Cenred was left staring at the door. He took his goblet and drowned its content in one go.

Maybe it would be best if he just waited in the throne room for the assassin to solve the problem, it wasn't like the man was forthcoming with information. He needed to talk with the former King's council anyway.

* * *

The trip down to the castle dungeon was uneventful all things considered. Merlin wasn't sure if it was Cendred or Eadric who held the real authority, but the castle itself was rather quiet. It was easy sneaking down to the cells, too easy perhaps, it was like all guards were gone from the corridors.

It was a completely different experience than last time he had been here, though if Merlin thought about it that was probably because all of Camelot's former guards were either dead or in prison and he immediately felt regret at the thought. Most of the guards had families in the lower town. How many people had lost their loved ones in this attack?

Maybe Cenred hadn't the guards to castle itself, or maybe he was arrogant enough to think that he had already dealt with the real threat. And maybe he was right about that, Merlin wasn't sure what he was about to do, and if he could even be considered a threat in the first place. Miley had been the real threat against Cenred, ironically, he thought, and he hadn't been that hard to deal with. Which was the reason Merlin was on his way down to the dungeons in the first place. If he could just get Miley free he would be able to sort out this whole mess and Merlin could get his mother back home.

Cenred and Uther could fight their own war for all he could care, if he was lucky enough they might even kill each other in the fight.

A picture and Gwen, Gaius and Arthur flashed through his mind and he grimaced. Maybe he cared a little after all. This really was one big mess.

It was when he came down to the dungeons that he realised where a big part of Cenred's remaining forces had ended up patrolling.

He had to quickly throw himself back down the corridor he came from when he had nearly stumbled in on a game of dice. He must have been so completely lost in his own mind that he hadn't even noticed the laughter echoing through the corridors.

Merlin sneaked back to the entrance and listened. It didn't sound like they had noticed him. He wondered if he would be able to knock them out like he had with his own guards, but dismissed the idea; he had no idea how many guards there were or if there were more farther down in the dungeon. It would be too big a risk to hope that none of them escaped the spell and managed to alert the rest of the castle. It wasn't like he could get past the whole army, or even just Eadric.

Not one to give up, Merlin instead doubled back. It was too late to pass as a servant bringing food or water to the prisoners, and Merlin didn't even know if Cenred had ordered them fed or not. He had to find something else.

His eyes fell on a small storage room and he went inside.

There was an old chest with some moth eaten cloaks and a few brooms and buckets. Not all that useful, unless. He looked looked closer at the bucket. He had heard the rumours about what had happened to some of Camelot's knights while imprisoned. Arthur had spoken highly of them, both those who survived and those who became martyrs. He knew torture could come in other forms than whiplashes and broken bones, and that those methods were often even more successful. It was cruel. Cruel enough that Cenred could have actually thought of it.

He picked one up and went out of the room. He was silent as he walked to the well and filled the bucket with water before walking back towards the dungeons. This time he was caught once by a patrol, but instead of hiding he stuttered out a reply and they let him pass. One of them wore a slightly crazed grin on his face, but the others were nearly expressionless, only a little disgust lingering in their eyes for what they thought their ruler had ordered. None questioned him though.

When he stepped into the dungeon the laughter from the dice game creased and one of the guards stumbled up from his chair, apparently drunk.

"Halt!" He said quite a bit lauder than necessary. "Who goes there?"

Merlin thought it was pretty obvious as he was standing right in front of him.

"I'm Merlin." Merlin answered regardless, not sure if his name would make any difference.

It didn't.

"I don't care. Wha' ya want? Can't ya see we're busy?"

Well, he couldn't. At least not busy with what the were paid to do.

"I, eh – " He tried to stutter out his planned excuse, but the guard didn't let him finish.

"A bit late to be cleaning the floors, inn't it? And the wrong place."

"I'm not-"

"You know wha' I think?" The guard continued, "I think we have caught a night wond-, wandr."

"Wanderer." One of the other guards said dryly.

"Right." The guard blinked a bit seemingly in deep thought for a moment before continuing.

"I'm sure the King will be delig-, del … something."

The guard that had spoken before seemed to have lost his patience as he waved his hand at the other tipsy guards. "Throw him in a cell."

The guards grumbled, but two of them stood up as their drunk comrade sat back down and threw the dice. Whatever he got made the remaining guards groan even more, and the man's laughter followed Merlin's trip further into the dungeon. The guards grabbed an arm each, so he lost his grip on the bucket so it fell and sent the water flying to all sides. Merlin's right trouser leg got soaked through and the guard to that side cursed when some of the water landed on his clothes too.

He tightened his grip further and Merlin flinched in pain.

Why could nothing go according to the plan?

The only good thing was that he had ended up exactly where he wanted. Well, not quite.

The guards threw him into an empty cell at the far corner of the dungeon, the one with the wet clothes spitting after him as they left.

Merlin thanked the gods for the man's bad aim and looked around. He was beside the pickpockets and common criminals and not at all near the Knights of Camelot or wherever they had thrown the sorcerer. At least it was a lot easier to unlock the door and sneak down the rows of cells than trying to sneak into the dungeons.

A few of the criminals shouted after him to release them as well and Merlin hurried away before their shouts attracted any guards patrolling the hallways.

The dungeons were a lot like a mace with rows and rows of different cell, most with iron bars so he was able to look inside, but down other rows the cells were made of solid stone walls with only a small holes for the guards to check on the prisoners; these were most likely for political prisoners. Arthur had once fleetingly mentioned a lord Ode of Cambia whose imprisonment was apparently the reason that the two kingdoms were not currently in open war. He wondered if Uther might be kept in one of these now.

It felt like hours as he moved away from the smaller, dirtier cells for the common criminals, to the larger cells used to imprison groups rather than individuals.

Merlin shuddered as he wondered if it was here Uther had kept all the ones accused of magic during the start of the purge, when he had imprisoned and executed hundreds of people in the span of a few months. Now they were filled mostly with Camelot's own soldiers and Merlin looked closely at each of them for anyone familiar. Some met his gaze, but most ignored him altogether and none said anything.

Just as he came to one of the last of the bigger cells and was about to turn back to look at the stone cells instead, he heard a voice in his head. It took him a moment to recognise it as Miley's. The knight's sounded tired, his voice slightly strained.

_What are you doing here?_

_I wanted to help_

Silence. Merlin looked around and tried to pinpoint from what direction the voice was coming from, but it just sounded like it was echoing in his head, not like it was connected to anything

_Of course you did_

Merlin didn't like the tone. He could help! The knight just needed to tell him where he was.

_Where are you?_

Again it took some time before the knight spoke again.

_Go back to the last crossroad and then take the corridor to the left._

Merlin did as he was told and slowly made his way to the cell holding Miley. As he came closer he recognised Arthur sitting in the cell as well. He supposed the outlines of people he could see in the other cells were the rest of the knights. The sight made him stop and he shuffled a bit, unsure of how to proceed. He didn't want to give away his position yet, in fear of the camelotians giving him away in spite.

_I can help you with your manacles?_

_Won't work. They are made of cold iron. Free the knights instead._

Merlin took a step back in chock, unsure if he had heard wrong.

_They would kill me!_

_I think they have worse problems than you right now._ Was the knight's only reply.

The warlock closed his eyes and send a silent prayer to any god that would listen before walking over to the cells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> Ode: English form of Odo, which comes from the word Aud meaning wealth and fortune
> 
> *Knitbone is one of the traditional names for the plant comfrey that was used in medieval medicine for many different ailments like broken bones, severe burns or acne. Another name used was boneset.


	25. The battle of Camelot part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go; nearly 7k words of more or less pure action. Enjoy.
> 
> I don't own Merlin

**Chapter 22: The battle for Camelot part II**

Arthur was in the process of forming some kind of plan to take back the castle. At the time he had dismissed stealing the keys from the guards and was therefore still stuck on how to get out of the cells. If they could just get on the other side of the bars, they could knock out the badly trained guards and slowly gain more weapons as they fought their way to where his father was kept and then to the throne room where Cenred was probably lounging around in his father's throne. Right now he was ignoring everything that could go wrong with that plan and instead concentrated on how to get out in the first place.

Maybe if he could just get a guard inside the cell … But then there would still be the shackles.

Soft steps registered in the back of his mind and he snapped out from where he had been staring into space. Expecting a guard or even Cenred he stood up and straightened his back. Around him Camelot's knights and even Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival did the same; none wanted to appear weak in front of the enemy.

Only Miley stayed sitting, but the sorcerer didn't really count anyway. An image of a frightened Morgana entered his mind as her nightmares turned out to be true. She wasn't evil, though they had both been sure that her dreams had been magic. He wondered what might have happened to her after the invasion. He would personally strangle Cenred if he had ever laid even a finger on her.

A figure came around the corner and Arthur recognised him at once and relaxed his stance, though the glare stayed in place.

"Oh, it's you. Come to gloat?"

That made the sorcerer react, as he looked up and sneered at the Prince. "Leave him alone."

"Why should I? He's a traitor." He turned back to Merlin. "Well, why are you here then?"

Merlin didn't answer, just glanced nervously around before his gaze settled on the sorcerer. For a few moments it appeared like they had a conversation just with their eyes, then the former apprentice stepped closer and, to Arthur's big surprise, opened the cell door with a muttered spell and a flash of golden eyes.

Arthur cursed and moved back.

"I should have known." And he had, a small voice whispered in his mind, he had seen the signs already when they escaped the slavers; he just hadn't wanted to admit it.

His mutterings were ignored as the newly revealed sorcerer stepped closer and lifted his hand.

Arthur took another step back and sneered. "Don't come any closer.  _Sorcerer_." He could hear the clanking of chains of to the side as the blond sorcerer rose to his feet. He could nearly feel Morgana's glare if she ever found out that he was acting like this, but this was  _different._

Morgana had had no choice with her magic. These people were already traitors  _beside_  their magic.

"If you quit being an idiot for one second, you might notice that the boy is about to free you."

" _What_?" Arthur took another step back in shock, now straining against the shackles, and glanced at the other sorcerer. Why the hell would the traitor wish to  _free_  him? They must be lying, yet the lie was so far fetched that they must have known that he would never believe it, so why try?

Merlin had raised his arms, not in a threatening way but rather as if he had truly been reaching for the chains and was taken aback when the prince had stepped out of reach. He dropped them to his side and hunched his shoulders slightly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"You didn't  _what_ ," the former Prince sneered. He knew that he should probably just let the boy speak, if there was even a  _grain_  of truth in what the sorcerer had said … But he was angry, angry on Cenred for attacking his kingdom, his  _home_ ; angry on himself for not noticing what was happening right beneath his nose, for thinking  _Lancelot_  might be a traitor, when the real one was walking right beside him. And now he finally had someone to let his anger out on, to  _blame_  for this whole mess, even though he in a small part of his mind that the whole blame couldn't be given to the boy before him; that he just was just the pawn not the mind behind the attack.

Merlin suddenly glared at him. "I didn't want to do this."

"I'm sure," Arthur gave him a fake smile. "A  _sorcerer_  who didn't want to see my father overthrown."

"They've  _bound me_. Sir Eadric can literally control what I do. And they have … They have." Merlin chocked, the words stuck in his throat, and a look of deep sorrow appeared on his face. The anger gone as quickly as it had arrived.

Arthur had just opened his mouth to ask, when the sorcerer interrupted him.

"This is really not the time for this. Merlin is right; the assassin can control him through a pair of manacles and it is a wonder that he hasn't come here and stopped us already."

Arthur looked at the young man before him. The strands of black hair nearly covered Merlin's eyes as he stood with his head slightly lowered in something resembling a half-bow, yet the genuine regret and fear was still easy to spot and Arthur was suddenly unsure of what to do.

"I see no manacles." His voice was quiet and unsure, nearly a question instead of an accusation.

"They are invisible to anyone who doesn't possess magic."

Arthur raised at Merlin. "That's awfully convenient."

Merlin didn't say anything else.

His father would never trust a sorcerer, let alone two, yet what was the worst that could happen? They were already prisoners, and were probably awaiting torture or execution, likely both.

Arthur swallowed once. "Alright." Merlin looked up in shock and Arthur raised his shackled arms as a silent invitation. "Do it."

The last sentence was meant as a command, but ended up coming out too softly for it to have the desired effect.

Merlin was still hesitating slightly and send another glance at the other sorcerer.

"Just … Promise to let us go afterwards."

" _Us_?" Arthur looked at the blond sorcerer, who raised one eyebrow in a clear challenge.

"Please." Merlin was wringing his hands and clearly getting nervous, his voice turning slightly desperate as he continued to blabber. "He is a prisoner too, so he is clearly not fully the King's man. He wasn't even a part of the attack!"

"No, he just infiltrated my castle and captured me and my men." The Prince's tone was cold, the sarcasm so thick it was dripping from every word.

Noice could be heard from the end of the corridor; guards shouting to each other and the prisoners as they checked each cell. They had obviously realised that something was wrong. He suddenly wondered how Merlin had even managed to get to them.

"Please," Merlin said again, and Arthur was beginning to wonder if the boy could say anything else or if he had somehow broken him. The boy's gaze had wandered over his shoulder; he had clearly noticed the commotion as well.

"Fine," Arthur snapped, and the words had barely left his mouth before Merlin acted. Quicker than Arthur could react the boy had taken another step closer, laid his hand on the former Prince's shackles and then they were already lying on the cell floor.

Arthur stumbled back in shock at the golden flash in Merlin's eyes, before rightening himself and glaring at the boy, though he did nothing else.

Nothing seemed to add up anymore. Him working with  _sorcerers_  to free his father who  _executed_  anyone even suspecting of working with a sorcerer. A fleeting thought whispered that he was one of those people now, and that his father would execute him for it too should he find out. He dismissed it; his father wouldn't know. He would make sure of it.

And if the two sorcerers escaped punishment too; well, he had promised to let them go.

Merlin proceeded to release the other men from the surrounding prisons. They all looked at the young sorcerer with a slightly wary gazes, though none of them did anything to stop him. Whether because they trusted the boy not to hurt them, or because of the Prince's example, Arthur didn't know.

The shouts from the guards that had been far away only a few moments before now sounded just around the corner.

"We need to hurry," a voice said behind him and Arthur was surprised to see that it was Merlin who had spoken. When had he managed to sneak back into the cell?

Arthur didn't let his surprise slow him for long, and soon they had all gathered outside in the hallway between the cells. Only Miley was left behind, and Arthur frowned at that. He didn't like the man, but he had seemed close to Merlin and he did promise to let  _both_  of them go, so he had expected, maybe naïvely, that both of them would help as well.

Miley seemed to read his silent question on his face and smiled without mirth. He dangled his chains in front of him. "Magic-proof." He nodded to the chains, "you need the keys for these." It sounded like an apology which made Arthur frown even more even as he turned around to face the tumult that closed in on them as the dungeon guards noticed them.

Arthur noticed that Percival and Gwaine had snook back into their cell and closed the unlocked door behind them, the latter sending Arthur a wink when he noticed his gaze. The Prince had an inclination of what they were doing and nodded back. This battle could not be won by brute force or skills alone; they might be a larger group then the guards, but they were unarmed and without armour. One lucky hit and they would be left unable to fight or worse.

The guards shouted at them to stay where they were, and for once Arthur listened. It wasn't as there were a lot of other places to go; this was a dead end just as all the other corridors down here. There was only once entrance to the dungeons after all.

Instead, they waited for the first pair of guards to get closer. As the pair arrived at their t-junction, shouting and swinging wildly with their weapons to get them to step back, which they all did without question. Skilled or not, their weapons were sharp and deadly.

"Slowly now. We wouldn't want to have any accidents happen, do we?" The group took another few steps back down the right corridor, until they were back at the entrance to Arthur's cell.

The guards slowed down as soon as they noticed that the prisoners were listening. One of them pointed at Arthur with his weapon. "You there, open the door and step in." He pointed at Leon and Lancelot. "You follow and close the door. No funny ideas. Everyone else take three steps back."

Everyone listened, and slowly did as they were told. Arthur stepped into the cell again, catching Miley's raised eye brow, and smiled at him while his back was to the guards. Then he turned to watch as Leon and Lancelot stepped in too, the later closing the door.

Meanwhile the others had moved back, while the other guards kept a close eye on them, weapon ready to be used if anyone tried to run. No one did.

The first guard sent the group a look before stepping slowly towards Arthur's cell, never turning his back to the group, even as he reached for the keys at his belt. The second the guard looked down to place the key in the whole Arthur looked up, caught Gwaine's eyes for a moment, before both of them ran up and slammed the cell doors open.

Arthur's guard had managed to stumble back in time to not get hit, but the other guard had stood just a bit too close to what he had assumed was a locked cell, and had been clipped on the shoulder. He fell down on the floor with a shout that just added to the confusion, as the rest of the group ran up to the pair.

Arthur focused on the guard before him, who was now caught between the Prince and the charging group and used precious seconds to decide which to defend against. At last he chose the closer Prince and swung widely at him so Arthur had to duck out of the way unless he wanted his head cut off. In doing so, however, the guard left his back free for Sir Cadmon and the knight punched him in the back of his head, adding a kick to the legs to make the guard topple.

A last kick to the head made sure that he would stay down, and Arthur could turn his attention back towards the rest of the fight going on, which wasn't much as the other guard had never managed to actually regain his footing, and now lay sprawled on the spot he had first fallen; a bit of blood running down from a cut at his temple.

They weren't allowed to catch their breath however, as reinforcement arrived not a moment later. Arthur grabbed the guard's fallen sword and joined the fray; the armed people fighting in the front, slowly joined by the rest as they too collected the weapons of the downed guards.

Another small batch of guards later, the now more or less armed group began to move towards the entrance of the dungeon just as the warning bells began to ring.

"Pendragon!" Someone called behind him, and Arthur turned around. The blond sorcerer was still standing shackled in the cell. "You'll need my sword. Find it."

The Prince barely registered the assassin's strange request, yet nodded all the same before running after the others. Merlin came up beside him and Arthur had a hard time not flinching when the boy brushed past him.

"I'll find the sword," Merlin shouted and went down the corridor leading out of the dungeons. Arthur shouted after him to try and stop him, but the young sorcerer was already.

Thoughts of a second betrayal filled the former Prince's head as he helped his men search for his father. The warning bells now echoed through the castle and Arthur knew that they wouldn't have more than a few minuets before they would be swarmed by soldiers. His breath came out in small puffs and desperation was practically pumping through his veins as he searched cell after cell without finding any signs of the former King of Camelot.

_They couldn't have killed him already, right?_  He dismissed the thought; Cenred would have made it as public as possible, and Arthur had not seen anything from the barred window in his cell. Besides; Cenred would, at the very least, have come down to gloat. No, his father must be alive still. He had to be. Arthur couldn't afford to think anything else.

As the minutes went by without any results, Arthur slowly had to come to the realisation that they wouldn't find Uther in time to escape. He had to chose between his King and his men, and in the end he wouldn't be worth anything to the King if they were all dead or recaptured.

It still felt like he was committing treason when he called the search of and ordered everyone out of the dungeons.

They had barely gotten left the stairs towards the dungeons before reenforcement arrived. After Merlin had left, Gwaine had picked some of the locks to the cells containing Camelot's knights and soldiers that had survived the invasion, but without magic this process had taken a lot of time and Arthur had far less armed men than he liked as they met the forces head on.

In the middle of the fight their original small group had been separated, so when Arthur and Gwaine finally broke through the group of essetirian soldiers most of his force was still left fighting for their lives.

They were just about to rejoin the fight when Sir Cadmon shouted for them to go on with their mission and find Merlin if they could. Arthur was all set on ignoring this comment though, and would have joined the fight regardless if Gwaine and Lancelot hadn't dragged him back.

"Release me," he snarled at the two men as Sirs Fane and Leon joined up with their small group. Edgar, Cadmon and Percival were all still caught up in the fight.

"Sorry Princess, can't do that." Gwaine didn't sound sorry at all, although his serious tone made Arthur stop struggling against their hold on his arms and think.

"Fine."

Three soldiers joined their group, but went back to the fight when he waved them away. If this should have any chance of working they needed a small force that was less likely to be discovered.

He gestured for the four men to follow him and they resumed their mission to get to the throne room where Cenred could most likely be found, often using less known passages and routes that Arthur only knew from his maps and escapades as a child running from his tutors and nursemaids.

They managed to run down several corridors without being discovered by a patrol though they heard more than one pass close by, when a pained shout and a clatter made them turn around.

Sir Fane, who had been their rearguard, was lying on the floor clutching his upper arm, where a bit of blood had already begun to show through his fingers. His sword laid to the side of him, where the young man had dropped it, and seeing as it was his sword-arm that was hurt, it was unlikely that the young knight would be worth much in the upcoming fight.

All this registered in Arthur's mind in the split second he had to take the situation in. What filled the most though was the person standing above the knight, staring down at the young knight with a blank expression.

Merlin.

Arthur's mind turned blank and he just reacted. He rushed forwards and parried the blow that would have cost the knight his life. A small fragment of metal broke off from his sword, and Arthur was just grateful that it didn't break completely; you should never block with your blade, yet in that moment he hadn't really had a choice.

Merlin didn't react at all to his attack being blocked. He just took a step back and swung again, this time at Arthur, and the former Prince had to jump back to avoid getting hit. He couldn't recognise the sorcerer's rune-covered sword as one of theirs, so he guessed that Merlin had succeeded in finding the sword that Miley had been talking about.

And now he had chosen to attack them with it. Wonderfull. Or maybe not  _chosen_ , but commanded to, Arthur thought as he sidestepped another attack from the former physician assistant before retaliating with a jab of his own, and stared into his opponents dull eyes. The blond sorcerer might just have told him the truth after all, though it didn't make the problem before him any smaller.

Merlin's next attack left his right side open for an attack, yet Arthur didn't want to kill the boy and instead stepped closer, taking the sorcerer off guard, before the former Prince's next attack knocked the sword out of his hands.

Arthur held his sword to the boy's chest before Merlin could try to retrieve his own blade.

The next moment Arthur was flying through the air and he managed to mentally curse himself for forgetting that the boy had  _magic_  and didn't even need a blade, before hitting the hard stone floor several meters further down the corridor. His blade was knocked out of his hand when he landed together with all the air in his lungs, and for a few precious moments Arthur could only lay stunned while he tried to will the air back into his lungs. When he finally succeeded to do just that, he finally realised why none of the others had helped him fight; they were all looking at the cloaked man standing in the middle of the corridor, blocking their way.

Something lay slumped at the man's feet, and Arthur recognised Fane's short, brown locks, even as a distinctive red puddle grew beneath him. There was something with that sight; somehow unreal. The youth was too still; he probably never even managed to get to his feet and now he was dead.

Arthur felt a stab of sorrow at the loss of his friend that quickly turned into a burning hatred for the the man responsible.

The former Prince tried to meet the murderer's eyes, but the cloak made this impossible. He could see the man's mouth though, and the half-smile he wore made Arthur want to shout in rage and hurt; made him want to wipe the smirk off of the creature's face, preferable with his blade, yet he restrained himself at the last moment.

The assassin was another thing Arthur had conveniently forgotten in their mad dash for freedom; or more like ignored in favour of getting away. Somewhere in his mind he had convinced himself that everything would be alright if they could just get out of the cells, find the king and escape the castle.

He had heard the rumours about the man before him of course, if he could really be called a man at all, and if only half of them were true, he knew that here was no way he could win that fight. Not one on one at least, and while he had no doubt that his men would stand behind him if he chose to try, there was no way they could compete against the man's magic.

The chance had been lost. Any further attack would result in a bloodbath.

He had to admit defeat. Again.

Since when did he start to lose so often? Since when did he ever get so  _weak_. He was supposed to be the Crown Prince, damnit! He was supposed to be leasing his men to victory, not dragging them down with him.

After today he wasn't sure if he was even worthy of his title. He had never felt that way before; uncertain and humbled; yes. Afraid; all the time. But not undeserving, never undeserving.

Not until now.

Arthur signalled for his men to stand down and guards grabbed their arms as soon as they had dropped their weapons. He followed without resisting down the corridors. He let them manhandle him into the throne room and let himself be pushed to the knees before the the usurper.

He kept his face blank, made it impossible for anyone to read him.

Yet, inside his emotions where as wild as waves hitting the cliffs in a storm.

* * *

Merlin watched the heels of the guards marching in front of him. He didn't want to raise his gaze in case any of the prisoners happened to look back. It was like someone had cut the connection between his head and the rest of his body; his limbs were moving as they normally would; his steps even and swift as he fell in step with the group, but it wasn't himself that was making them move.

It had been months since he had last had felt like this, and he had nearly forgotten it with everything else happening. Only now could he see how naïve it was to think that he could have helped the others escape without being noticed.

The mental commands given had been without warning, and he had not even been able to give a shout in surprise before he was already moving instinctually to disarm the knight, who had not been expecting the attack from behind.

A picture of Fane's young face entered his thoughts. Sneaked in from a corner of his mind, where he had tried to lock the memories away. In a way he was glad that Eadric had arrived so quickly that he did, or it might had been him who had showed a sword through the back of someone who had been a good acquaintance, if not close to a friend.

He swallowed and was careful only to watch the step of those in front of him.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Maybe that wasn't even the worst of it, maybe the worst was that he didn't consider the murder of someone he had known to be the worst of it, that he wasn't thinking and worrying about his mother, or his friends, or even himself. The only thing he did was wondering about if he would have still followed if someone hadn't been controlling each step. Or if he would have taken the chance to run, maybe tried to get back to his mother though he knew Eadric would find him wherever he went.

The boots stopped and he followed their lead. He could hear the huge oak doors open, and looked up without raising his head from the ground.

The newly self-crowned king of Camelot was sitting on the throne while a few Knights and soldiers stood around listening to whatever the King was currently saying. At the sound of the door closing the King turned his cold gaze at them and grinned, absently waving his men away.

"Looks at that. The Pendragon whelp has deemed me worthy of a visit. I'm honoured." Cenred's grin became even wider until he looked like a snarling dog; all crooked teeth on show.

Eadric kicked at Arthur's inner knees so the former Prince fell to the ground, knees first. Merlin could only see the man's back, but taking in the man's tense body he could imagine the glare directed at the King.

He didn't have more time to take in the scene as he was suddenly moving too, kicking Sir Leon to his knees as several guards did the same to the rest, until the King could stare down on all his prisoners.

Eadric drew his sword and held it to the former Crown Prince's throat. Arthur didn't make a sound. Merlin was glad he didn't.

"Lovely. The high suits you, Pendragon." The king seemed to think for a moment. "Maybe we should have it made permanent. What do you think?"

Before Arthur could come with an answer a voice from Merlin's left interrupted him. " _Cenred_." The sound wasn't a growl, it wasn't even said in a loud voice, but the cold tone still cut through the silence. Merlin flinched, old memories of a grey castle resurfacing for a moment before he could burry them again.

Cenred just glared at the sorcerer, but didn't continue.

"Very well. As lovely as this meeting has been, I've better things to do than to entertain a group of boys playing knights." He waved his hand at the group on their knees. "Take the Pendragon whelp back to his cell. Kill the rest."

It took Merlin a moment to fully register the words, enough time for the soldiers to draw their swords. One breath. He felt his own arm swing back, his weapon heavy and deadly in his hand. His heart was pounding in his chest.

Another breath, more a gasp; a desperate sound that filled his ears and made all other sounds dull.

Breathe in.

His arm began its trip back towards the knight's exposed neck.

_No_.

Merlin could feel the assassin's lingering commands filling a part of his mind, even while the man himself was otherwise occupied with the King; a slimy substance that was clinging to his control of every muscle in his body. It covered the magic in his veins, like sticky chains, and forced his limbs to obey.

Everything happened so quickly, no more than a blink of an eye.

In a desperate last attempt of stopping himself murdering the knight, Merlin flung a mental attack at the foreign presence invading his mind, trying to draw on his rather sluggish magic even as the invisible bonds tightened in return. A small amount of his golden power managed to break away from the invisible chains, and he used it to strengthen his attack, forming a mental spear that slammed into the invading glob.

He had never tried anything like it and didn't expect it to work, yet still a mental scream of frustration when the attack just glanced of.

The chains reached out towards his essence and Merlin knew on an instinctual level that he couldn't let it touch him. That if it did, he would be truly lost and the assassin would control him completely; mind, body and soul. He would no longer exist as his own person.

Primal urges to survive filled his mind and drove every other thoughts out of his mind. He forgot everything else; where he was and what he had been trying to do just the second before, until everything was focused on fight or flight, where the latter was impossible. Instead he yanked at the chains and this time his magic seemed to wake up; seemingly feeling its hosts plight. It rose up and drilled holes through the slimy chains, trying to burn them up even as a small part of the power burst out of Merlin's skin and filled the throne room.

Instinctually, a small wave of his magic burst out and slowed down time until everything was as frozen. Merlin released his grip on Miley's sword, and the weapon continued to hang in the air. Not floating, just frozen.

It was as if a basilisk had passed the castle, turning the whole world into invisible stone, and only he himself had avoided its gaze.

His wrists hurt, but the pain from the rest of his magic trying to destroy the chains and get out drowned everything else.

The power continued to build under his skin, his whole body was shaking as the pressure increased with each beat of his heart, until the pressure was big enough that he thought he would explode and he was sure that he would level the castle with the ground; burying them all under tons of marble.

His vision was greying at the edges. His control slipped for a moment, and then time resumed as normal.

The sword clattered to the ground beside him. The magic he had released still lingered in the air, doing  _something_ , though Merlin had completely lost any sense of control he might have had over it.

He barely noticed as every gaze turn to him, eyes widening in shock. He was more worried about the magic burning under his skin.

Something invaded his mind, a presence; foreign yet familiar. He wants it to go away, but - He. Can't. Focus.

Focus.

_Focus_.

Merlin wasn't sure if the voice in his head was his own thoughts or someone else's, yet it no longer mattered because nothing was making sense anymore. The world was a mess of colours. He thought he heard the sound of battle; metal hitting metal, shouts, but they sounded dull, unreal.

He must have collapsed to the ground because he could now feel the floor of the throne room touching his cheek. His skin felt warm and feverish, so he latched unto the feeling of the cold stone against his skin.

_Breathe_. His throat was burning and he might even have been screaming. He wasn't sure. He was not sure of anything anymore other than the pain.

_In_.

Arms are gripping his shoulders and he tried to twist away because it only makes the pain  _worse_. And why aren't they helping him, can't they see that he is  _burning_?

_Out_.

All his worries were being buried under the increasing pain, until he could no longer remember why he had wanted to keep the magic in in the first place.

A pounding pain centred itself in his head and chest; as if something is trying to get out, while the regions around his wrists burn hotter.

_In._

In one second of clarity he opened his eyes - When did he close them? - and saw something blurred blocking the light from the windows. His gaze focused on the light surrounding the figure, then the panels behind it; the windows were clearer than he remembered. Had the sun become stronger?

Each second was dragged out; stretched until they lasted several lifetimes. His heart had slowed until it was nearly silent.

The last dull sounds finally disappeared and he released his hold on reality.

_Out._

* * *

The escape hadn't worked. Of course it hadn't. When was life ever easy for the Crown Prince of Camelot? Yes, he had privileges that most would dream of, yet they seemed to always be drowned by the growing responsibilities, family drama and the bad luck that seems to follow him everywhere he went.

Like now.

One of his knights were dead, stabbed by a coward while he was already lying down, Merlin was somehow possessed by the assassin and was currently guarding Sir Leon, and their situation was just generally going from catastrophic to worse. Because, why  _not_?

Maybe he should be worried about his thoughts becoming more and more sarcastic in the face of certain death. These increasingly common life-and-death situations were probably not doing anything good for his mental health.

Well, it wasn't like he was choosing any of this.

Cenred was saying something or another, probably mocking him judging by the usurper's tone, but Arthur wasn't really listening until someone kicked him in the back of his knees and he crashed to the floor.

He tried not wince at the pain shooting up from his kneecaps.

Cenred was talking again, and this time he couldn't stop the words from registering. "- high suits you, Pendragon." The false king got a calculating look in his eyes that Arthur didn't like at all. "Maybe we should have it made permanent. What do you think?"

Arthur didn't deem that worthy of an answer and Cenred didn't look like he expected one either way. Not that Arthur would have really cared if he had.

A voice interrupted Cenred's next words.

" _Cenred_." Arthur thought that this might have been the first time he ever heard the assassin speak and the voice certainly lived up to his expectation of a man that was said to scare the monsters under the beds.

Cenred just glared at the sorcerer, but didn't continue.

"Very well. As lovely as this meeting has been, I've better things to do than to entertain a group of boys playing knights." The usurper waved his hand at them. "Take the Pendragon whelp back to his cell. Kill the rest."

Arthur watched in horror as the guards to both side of him drew their weapons, and he threw himself against his own guard's grip, only stilling when he felt the cold press of metal against his neck. He contemplated trying to break free regardless, trying to calculate where to hit so the guard didn't slit his throat in reflex even after Cenred obviously wanted him kept alive, but he knew that even if he somehow succeeded, he still wouldn't manage to get to his men in time.

And then a miracle happened. Or Merlin happened, but at that moment Arthur saw them as one and the same.

A wave of  _something_  slammed into them, going through Arthur and his men, but toppling the guards while simultaneously making them lose their grip on their grip on their weapon. As if someone had cut the strings keeping them upright, so they were left to down in a boneless heap.

Arthur, like anyone else still staying upright, turned his gaze to the young sorcerer in the middle of the floor. Leon had crawled back a few paces, a wary expression on his face that was quickly turning into one of awe and fear.

The sorcerer's skin was glowing; a faint golden light that was slowly intensifying until he resembled a small sun.

Not one to look a gifted horse in the mouth, Arthur ignored Merlin and the collapsed guards and instead picked up his own guard's sword from the floor and threw himself at Cenred, who was watching the glowing sorcerer with wide eyes. The usurper's expression would have been comical in another situation, but Arthur proceeded to wipe it of his face when he nearly managed to impale the king, while he was still distracted.

At the last moment Cenred seemed to feel him impending doom and threw himself to the side over the throne's armrest.

The fight that followed between the two royals was not one of Arthur's more graceful fights; he was much to angry to focus on skill and precision and instead using his rage to increase the strength of each strike of his sword, completely disregarding the damage he was doing to the weapon as his only thought was to spill the blood of his opponent.

Cenred didn't last long under his barrage. His few counter attacks were wide and frantic as he focused most of his energy on trying to block the blond warrior's attacks. In the end he took a wrong step and nearly tumbled down the steps of the dais, he managed to catch his balance, however the two seconds of distraction was enough for Arthur to get around the King's defences and run him through.

Arthur didn't even wait to see the corpse fall to the ground, but immediately turned around to survey the situation and caught the assassin kneeling beside Merlin, who had collapsed to the ground, still glowing. Around them the soldiers in the room had apparently more or less recovered and were fighting Arthur's remaining men. He ignored their fight, hoping his men could hold their own for a few more minutes as something told him that getting to Merlin was far more important.

He ran down to the two sorcerers and yanked the assassin away, who went surprisingly easy and that was when he noticed that both of them had glowing rings around their wrist. Rings that resembled manacles disturbingly much.

He had no idea what he had to do and ended up grabbed the boy's shoulders, ignoring the boys sluggish attempts of getting away. Merlin opened his eyes, blinking slowly before meeting his gaze with unfocused eyes. Arthur wasn't sure if the boy was even really seeing him or not. Then his eyes closed again, and Merlin went completely limp in his grip, though the intense glow remained.

Suddenly he remembered the blond sorcerers' words back in the cell. The sword. He needed the sword.

He lowered Merlin back to the ground and looked around for the weapon that he knew the boy had held in his hand a few moment before.

_There._

Barely a few feet away the sword lay innocently at the foot of the dais, runes glittering slightly in the light that Merlin's skin cast upon it.

He threw himself at it and crawled back on his knees, a soft hum filled his head, and he didn't thing that his legs would support him anymore. The hum increased its intensity as he neared the two sorcerers and he vaguely thought that it must be coming from the manacles.

There was no time to do it carefully, and so he swung his sword at Merlin's left wrist, hitting the manacle which broke with a few golden sparks. A thin line of red appeared where the blade managed to break skin, but Arthur had trained for years with a sword and he managed to stop his swing before the weapon did any real damage. Repeating the process on the boy's other wrist.

As soon as the last manacle broke, magic exploded out of the young sorcerer, before it all was seemingly sucked into the assassin's manacled that still adorned the man's wrist.

The man shouted in rage and clawed at the invisible metal as the skin underneath began to sizzle and smoke, yet they wouldn't come off and Arthur watched with cold detachment as the assassin was bathed in the same golden light that Merlin had been moments before, only the light seemed to attack the man until he imploded.

One second he was there, the next he was gone with no signs of having ever existed.


	26. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**I don't own Merlin**

The first sign of a red dawn slowly crept across the horizon. The first servant were already up and about in the courtyard , quietly gathering fresh water or firewood for their masters, but up on the battlement only the occasional patrol of soldiers disturbed the silence of the early morning.

Snow had come for real sometime that night, and now a thick layer covered the city. When Merlin laid his hands on the battlement he could feel it melting underneath his numb fingers. Miley gave a long sigh as he leaned beside him, and a small white cloud of warm breath escaped into the greying sky. It would become a cold, but clear day to travel in. If they were lucky, they might even be able to avoid any snow storms before they could find shelter.

It was a few days after the last battle, and Merlin had finally recovered enough to walk around without collapsing in exhaustion. At least he would have Aethelfled to keep him company and support on his trip. Which reminded him.

"Where will you go?" He asked the former knight of Essetir.

It was in moment like these that Merlin realised how little he knew of the man, even though they had spend much time together in the last year. Did he even have a home now that Cenred's army was near destroyed?

The King of Essetir himself had been stopped when he tried to flee the throneroom after the final battle. Morgana and Gwen had held him at a sword-point until a surprised Sir Leon had found them and ordered the usurper's arrest. He was set to be released later this day, but only because he had finally signed an agreement that not only paid for any damage done on Camelot, but would also leave Essetir in such a huge debt that rebuilding their army would be neigh impossible.

Merlin wondered how long the King would last, and what this would mean for him and his mother. Maybe it would be best if he tried to convince her to leave with him, even though it would mean selling their small farm house. Later though, maybe when spring arrived.

"I think it is time that I return to my wife. I doubt Cenred would be foolish to ask either mine, or my uncles help again. Maybe it is time our family found some new allies." The former knight kept his gaze on the horizon.

Merlin turned to him in surprise. "You have a wife?"

The man smiled sadly. "Her name is Deorwynn. I have daughter too, Ninemía, though I had to leave before she was born. She has to be around five now."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, but didn't know how he should continue. He didn't know this man's family, though he was apparently his family as well, and he had no idea how to help him, if Miley even wanted his help at all.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

They latched into silence once more as they watched to sky lighten. Finally, after several long minutes Miley shifted again and dusted a bit of snow of his long fur-coat. "We should get going," he said, and Merlin nodded in agreement. They needed to have crossed the border before nightfall and travel through the snow would be slow even with the help of horses.

In the end they had been lucky that Uther was still recovering from his time stuck in the dungeons and Arthur therefore had taken temporarily command while the newly reappointed King of Camelot rested in his chambers. It had taken a lot of convincing, but in the end Arthur had agreed to release Miley from the dungeons despite his involvement with the attack. Instead they had both been banished for spying on the crown, a rather mild sentence when the usual was execution. The reason being their help in the last battle, though he never officially held any trial, so Merlin was sure the council wouldn't have agreed with his reasoning. Merlin didn't complain through; he was glad this mess was nearly over with and he craved to be able to start over somewhere else.

Gwen and Morgana he had avoided, not willing to try to explain his role in all what had happened, but Merlin had briefly talked with Gaius the night before, who after a stern scolding and a raised eyebrow had muttered something about 'youths' and then proceeded, much to Merlin's embarrassment, to get the old book on magic book that Merlin had used so long ago, because as Gaius said, 'it seemed like he would need it more than him with all that trouble he got himself into.' Of course the old man knew about his magic. How he even thought that he could have kept it hidden, he had no idea; that man had practically eyes at the back of his neck and a nose that could smell trouble a mile away.

Now with the book safely in his leather satchel and Aethelfled waiting for him in the stables, Merlin felt ready to travel back across the border, where he had come to infiltrate a foreign kingdom nearly half a year beforehand.

Miley had promised to help him get his mother back unscathed before the King of Essetir could get the time to hurt her, though Merlin had no idea how yet. Afterwards Miley had gotten him to promise to visit his father, though he had made no promise to stay with him. Merlin still felt nervous about meeting Balinor, but maybe it would be good for him to know a bit more of his heritage.

It was, after all, what had gotten him stuck in all this mess in the first place.

"So, ever think we'll be back here again?" He asked with a smile as they walked down the narrow stairs leading up to the battlement.

Miley laughed softly. "I would like to say no, but knowing our family, we will find a way back regardless. Somehow, it seems like our destiny is interwoven with Camelot and the Pendragons." He had a knowing look in his eyes, and Merlin waguly remembered his meeting with the dragon under the castle telling him something similar, yet decided not to ask.

He was certain destiny would find him, even without him looking, and right now the only thing he really wanted was to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> Deorwynn: dear delight
> 
> Ninemía: windless calm
> 
> This scene has been stuck in my head since halfway through the story, and I really think it ties up the storyline, while still giving it the slightly open ending I was aiming for.
> 
> So, I started writing the first chapter of this story back in December 2012, and was both my first, and later longest story I've ever written. It has taught me a lot, mostly what not to do, and though I'll probably never like it, I'm really happy to have finished it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your time. I would be glad if you had the time to tell me if you liked it, have any questions or come with some constructive critism ;)


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